Sins of the Father, Sins of the Mother
by purplejellybean
Summary: 14 years ago Arthur Petrelli abducted his youngest son from his mother's house. 14 years later Nathan will do anything to get his brother back, but is he risking Peter's life? Was his father right all along? AU
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Heroes does not belong to me.

Chapter One:

The weather was beginning to turn as September came to a close. Assistant District Attorney Nathan Petrelli was striding along the sidewalk not far from his office in step with his personal assistant, Gail. They were having a good day, and the gaggle of press gathered around the entrance to the District Attorney's building was not entirely unsurprising.

Nathan pulled off his sunglasses and showed the crowd his best grin. He was about to start talking when he saw a familiar figure standing at the edge of the crowd. Nathan turned, his mouth dropping open. It was his father, his father standing next to a boy of about 12. Nathan stepped forward, pushing past the people between them, but Arthur and the boy began to run. Nathan broke away from the crowd and dashed after them.

Nathan wove in and out of traffic as he fought to keep the two figures in sight. They reached the end of the block and disappeared into the subway. Nathan ran down the stairs and found he was standing on the edge of a building. Standing in front of him was a young man in his twenties, staring over the edge. Nathan moved forward, his hand reaching out to grasp the young man's shoulder. A fierce wind whipped about them, sending their hair in all directions. The other man began to turn…

"Nathan?"

Gail was shaking his shoulder. Nathan realised that he had fallen asleep in the back of the car. He gave his assistant a half smile as she said, "Your mother said that you are to change before going to the party tonight. She doesn't want you smelling like an office."

Nathan ran a hand across his face and said, "Right. Thank you."

He stumbled out of the car, trying to grasp at the last remnants of his dream. It wasn't an unusual occurrence; generally he had a dream about his father or his brother about once a week. If it weren't them, it would be of a blonde haired woman and a baby, burning. His mother had recommended he see a sleep doctor, or some sort of psychiatrist, but Nathan had refused. He didn't want to rationalise them, he wanted to remember his brother and his daughter, but particularly he wanted to know his father's face so he knew what to aim his fist at when they met again.

He made his way through his apartment. He paid for it by the money he earned as an assistant district attorney, unlike the enormous house his mother lived in, which was owned by his stepfather. He shrugged off his work shirt and pulled out his tuxedo from the wardrobe. After struggling with his bowtie he stared at the picture on his desk. It was of his family, before his father ripped it apart. He scowled for a few moments before the shrill ring of the telephone woke him from his thoughts.

"Nathan Petrelli."

"Mr Petrelli, I am Gregory Harrod, calling from Matthey, Hill and Armitage. I am calling on behalf of the estate of Arthur Petrelli."

Nathan froze. For the first time in 14 years he had confirmation of his father's continuing existence. "Ok. What's the message?"

"Your father has left you 40 of his estate, with the other 60 going to your brother," the lawyer said. "I am faxing the information to your office as we speak."

"I'm sorry," Nathan said, trying to keep the terseness out of his voice. "Did you say my father has left me something? Why would he have done that?"

"You are down here as one of the recipients of his will," Harrod said. "I'm sorry, were you expected a larger percentage? I was led to understand that this was all cleared."

Nathan bit hard on his lower lip. "Mr Harrod, is my father dead?"

There was a silence at the other end of the phone. "I'm terribly sorry Mr Petrelli, I thought that you were aware. Your father passed two weeks ago."

The whole world tipped on its axis. Nathan slid down the wall, the back of his head falling back against it with a dull thud.

"Mr Petrelli?"

Taking a heaving breath, Nathan pulled himself together. "Right. I see. I wasn't aware. How did he die?"

"I understand it was a heart attack," Mr Harrod said quietly. Nathan ran a hand over his face. "Right."

The phone line went quiet again and Nathan stared back at the picture on his desk. A cold numbness had taken over his mind, which was why it took him a moment to realise the true consequences of his father's death. In the photograph sixteen-year-old Nathan had his arm around his four-year-old brother, his hidden brother, the brother whose shield was gone. Nathan sat bolt upright and said, "Mr Harrod, do you have a contact number for my brother?"

The lawyer hesitated before answering. "Mr Petrelli, I was only given your contact information."

Nathan sighed in frustration. "Fine, when is the funeral?"

"I understand it was last week," Mr Harrod said. "Mr Petrelli, I'm sorry. I was led to believe that you were aware of the circumstances around the will. This was supposed to be merely a courtesy call to inform you of the transfer of funds to your account."

Nathan gave a mirthless laugh. "Mr Harrod, I have had no contact with my father in nearly 14 years. I'd really appreciate you giving me a number for my brother."

"I don't have that information," Mr Harrod said. Nathan jumped as his apartment buzzer sounded through the room. "Excuse me for a moment Mr Harrod."

He opened his door to reveal his mother looking displeased. He sighed and let her into the room, saying, "Ma, there's something I need to tell you."

Angela Petrelli stared levelly at him. "I hope there is a good reason why you are nearly two hours late for my party Nathan."

"Dad's dead," Nathan said calmly, watching his mother's face carefully. Her expression didn't change. Nathan glared at her and picked up the phone again. "Mr Harrod, where is your firm? I'd like to come and speak to you in person."

"We are based in Los Angeles," Mr Harrod said, sounding slightly bemused. "The address is on the paperwork I have faxed across to your office."

"Thank you Mr Harrod," Nathan said. "I'll arrange to fly out tomorrow."

He put down the phone and turned to his mother, who was looking a lot less composed. She looked up at him and said, "I assume that was a discussion about the funeral?"

Nathan shook his head. "Apparently it's already happened. That was Dad's lawyer telling me how much money I should expect to end up in my account."

Angela was silent, absently turning her wedding band on her finger. Nathan sat down beside her on the sofa and said, "Ma, I'm going out there tomorrow. I need to find out what's going on."

"I doubt there is much to discover," Angela said sullenly. "Nathan, your father destroyed this family in one moment, I don't think his death will miraculously put it together again."

"I don't care," Nathan said, a resolve pooling within him. "I'm going to find Peter."

* * *

_14 years earlier_

Peter Petrelli sat in the den of the Petrelli mansion attempting to give the appearance of a son dutifully absorbed in their homework, when in reality he was trying desperately to overhear the dramatic conversation going on in the adjoining room. Nathan had fled the house in the early hours of the morning, stumbling past Peter's bedroom in a state that the younger brother had never seen before.

"Nathan?"

The elder brother's eyes were haunted, pained. Peter reached out to hold onto Nathan's arm, who instantly relaxed at his brother's touch. "Hey Pete, you should be asleep, school tomorrow."

"What's going on?" Peter asked, noting Nathan's dishevelled but fully dressed appearance.

"I've got to go to Texas for a bit," Nathan said, curling his hand around Peter's shoulder. "Don't know how long I'll be, but don't worry about it, ok?"

Peter blinked up at him. "But…"

"I know," Nathan said with a sigh. "I know I promised to spend time with you this holiday, but this really can't be helped."

"Ok," Peter said, his gaze dropping. He was being selfish and knew it, but he had so few opportunities to spend with Nathan since he had started in the Navy.

"When I get back we'll go and watch the Yankees," Nathan promised, pulling Peter tight to his chest. "Ok?"

Peter nodded against Nathan's suit jacket. Nathan pulled away and said, "Be good for Ma and Pop, ok?"

Peter smiled. "Aren't I always?"

Nathan grinned and patted his cheek. "See you soon."

Peter watched him head down the stairs before going back to bed. The following day both of the parents were anxious and snippy, so Peter decided to hide and play the perfect son. Nathan had taught him early that not aggravating the parents when times were tense led to a much easier day for the sons.

"I don't care Angela!" the thundering voice of Arthur Petrelli made Peter knock his schoolbooks on the floor in surprise. He scrambled to pick them up when he heard his mother say, "Its for the best Arthur."

"She is Nathan's daughter, our granddaughter, we can't just send her away!"

Peter's eyes widened as he was on his haunches scooping up the books. Nathan's daughter? He made to stand up and smacked his head on the underside of the table. He gave out a shout of pain and rubbed at his head as the door opened. His parents were standing on the threshold wearing matching expressions of surprise.

"Peter, how long have you been standing there?" Mrs Petrelli asked and Peter, blinking the tears of pain out of his eyes, said, "Uh…"

"Peter." His father took a step forward and his hand landed on Peter's shoulder. "How much did you hear?"

Peter stopped rubbing his head and said, "Nathan has a daughter?"

His parents shared a look of concern and Angela said, "I'm going to make the call."

Arthur looked panicked. "No! We should tell him the truth!"

Angela's expression darkened. "What happened to protecting our children?"

The look on his father's face shook Peter to the core. "You lecture me about protecting our children? I heard what you and Daniel were talking about! I know about the bomb!"

Peter's mother's nostrils flared as she glared at her husband and she said, "Then I will be making two calls."

She stormed out of the room and Arthur released the grip on Peter's shoulder. He cupped Peter's face in his hand and said, "You have to trust me Pete, ok?"

Peter glanced across at where his mother had disappeared to and then nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Landing at LAX Nathan fought hard to keep his excitement under control. For fourteen years he had been meeting dead-ends as he tried to track his father. In the early years Angela had spent a great deal of money trying to find her husband and her son, but somehow Arthur had organised a divorce settlement that left Angela in a motel and the trail ran very cold after that.

This was the first lead in years, and Nathan was trying not to picture emotional reunions. He had wondered, in the darker moments, why Peter hadn't come to find them. Nathan had worried that Peter had died and he would never know. After he had started working at the DA's office he had employed a private investigator to try and find Peter but to no avail.

His mother had given up after a few years. Nathan believed that ending up in a motel had completely devastated his mother, even more than Peter being taken. Only three months after the divorce was finalised Angela was planning her wedding to Daniel Linderman. Nathan hadn't approved, but he couldn't voice his concerns, because his mother had finally come out of her depression.

"But Linderman could give us money to help us find Peter," Nathan had said. "The police might not be able to help us, but we now have the funds to find him."

Angela had refused. "We'll never find him, not while your father can hide him."

Nathan couldn't understand it, couldn't believe it. "But it's Peter, your son. He needs to home with us!"

Angela had taken Nathan by the shoulders, met his eye and spoke very clearly. "Your father has means beyond imagining of keeping your brother hidden. We will never find him while he's in your father's care."

Nathan's heart had begun to race. "Why did Pop take him Ma?"

Angela's gaze dropped. "To keep him safe."

"From who?" Nathan's hands were shaking.

There were tears slipping down her cheeks. "From me."

The heat in LA was enough to make Nathan wish he was back in New York. He took a taxi to the office of Matthey, Hill and Armitage and asked for Gregory Harrod. The lawyer in question was a man about ten years older than Nathan and shook his hand firmly. "Mr Petrelli, good to meet you."

"I wish I wasn't here," Nathan said, honestly. The other lawyer gave a laugh and said, "Lets go up to my office. I have some paperwork you might find interesting."

The paperwork was more than interesting. The estate of Arthur Marcus Petrelli was split 60:40 between 'Peter Anthony Petrelli' and 'Nathan Joseph Petrelli'. Nathan's address was listed as the old house in Manhattan, now owned by the Linderman group. Peter's address was listed as a house on the outskirts of LA. It was also to be left to Peter in the event of Arthur's death.

"Is this all the contact information you have for him?" Nathan asked and Harrod nodded. "From what I understand, the house is to be sold as soon as possible."

Nathan took note of the address and said, "I think I might go and have a look around the house."

Harrod nodded and shook his hand. "Good luck Mr Petrelli."

When Nathan found the house he was surprised at the size. It made him realise that may be his mother had always been the parent with the expensive taste. The house Peter had grown up in was small, comfortable looking home. The garden was a little overgrown and the paint on the front door was peeling. Nathan followed the estate agent through into the hallway.

Clearly the house was already ready to be sold. There were no photos on the wall and the sofas were covered in white sheets. The estate agent was waxing lyrical about the size of the rooms and the quality of the architecture. The master bedroom felt like Nathan's parents' bedroom back in the Manhattan house, but the other bedroom was what captured Nathan's interest. It must have been Peter's.

The room was small, with a large bay window taking up almost all of one wall. The bed was low and springy, a floorboard near the door creaked. The estate agent had the sense to give Nathan some space, so he sat down on the bed, listening to the strain as his weight landed on the mattress. The sun was pouring in the room, flooding the space with light and if Nathan shut his eyes he could almost feel Peter there with him, almost.

Nathan's next stop was the local police station. Having fobbed off the estate agent with promises to consider the property he had decided to investigate his father's life in California, especially as he had hidden himself so well for so many years. Arthur Petrelli had been listed as a lawyer in his will, so Nathan decided it was safe to assume that the local police would have some information.

The headquarters of the LAPD was abuzz with activity, but Nathan was yet to visit one that hadn't been. He strolled up to the front desk and flashed his best smile. The receptionist smiled back shyly and said, "Can I help you sir?"

"I hope so," Nathan grinned a little wider. "My name is Nathan Petrelli, I'm hoping to speak to someone who knew my father."

"Was your father a cop?" she asked, her fingers poised over the keyboard of her computer.

"A lawyer," Nathan said, making sure to maintain good eye contact with her. She typed out the name slower than Nathan expected, her fingernails clacking on the keys. "I'm sorry, there's no Petrelli listed."

Nathan stared at her blankly and asked, "Is that in the entire LA area or…?"

She blinked at him and then smiled sweetly. "What's the first name? I can run it district-wide."

"Arthur Marcus Petrelli," Nathan said, seething inwardly at her incompetence, but maintaining an outward persona of cool. There was a bit more clacking, and then she gave Nathan another big smile. "There's no Arthur Marcus Petrelli, but there is Arthur Marcus Anthony. Could you have got the surname wrong?"

Nathan was about to deliver a scathing reply when he caught himself and said, "May be. Was there anyone here he worked particularly closely with?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulder in a frankly disgusting display of flirting and Nathan kept his smile taut. "Detective Parkman. I remember Mr Anthony working with Matt a fair few times."

"Can I speak with Detective Parkman?" Nathan asked, flashing his shark smile.

"Of course," she said, picking up a phone and saying, "I'm Alicia by the way."

Nathan smiled blandly as she spoke to Detective Parkman before saying, "He's on his way."

At that point Nathan decided to head to the seats and ignore the sultry glances Alicia was sending his way. A few moments later a rather rotund police officer came out of a back office and spoke briefly to Alicia, who pointed at Nathan.

"Mr Petrelli?"

Nathan nodded.

"Detective Matt Parkman. I didn't know Arthur had any more kids," the police officer smiled affably. "Nice to meet you, your father was a great man."

Nathan gave him a tight smile. "I'm sorry to say I didn't know him very well. Is it possible for me to talk to you about my father?"

"Sure," Parkman said. "You look a lot like him. A lot more like him than Peter does, anyway."

At the mention of his brother's name Nathan's heart started pounding. "You know Peter?"

"Sure," Parkman said with a grin. "Saw him at your father's funeral. I think he's back in New York now. Him and his wife."_

* * *

_

_14 years earlier_

Peter received a kiss on the forehead from his mother as she headed out of the front door, dressed immaculately. She took his chin between her thumb and forefinger and said, "You'll be a good boy for your father and Mr Linderman, won't you darling?"

"Yes Mom," Peter said obediently, giving her a shy smile.

"I'll bring Nathan home with me," Angela said, brushing lint off his sweater. "And you can stop acting like the world has ended. Is that a deal?"

Peter continued to smile dutifully. "Yes Mom."

She matched his smile, her eyes sparkling and Peter felt a rush of warmth for her. He instinctively reached out and hugged her. She gave a soft laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of his mess of dark hair.

"The car is ready Mrs Petrelli," the driver said, coming through the door.

"Thank you," Peter's mother said, releasing her son. She picked up her purse and said, "I'll be home in a few hours and Mr Linderman will be here shortly. Why don't you go and find your father? I think he's sulking in the garden."

Peter nodded. "Bye."

"Goodbye darling, see you soon." And she was gone.

Peter headed out into the garden, finding his father on the terrace, peering over a book. He sat down opposite Arthur and said, "Mom's gone to pick up Nathan."

His father lifted his head slowly, placing the book carefully on the table in front of him. He stood up and looked Peter straight in the eyes. "Peter, I want you to go and pack a bag."

Peter blinked at him. "Are we going somewhere?"

Arthur placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Just a little trip."

His father started to steer him back towards the house but Peter resisted. He wasn't a little kid any more and something didn't add up. "But Nathan's coming home."

"I know Peter," his father said, testily. "You've got to trust me champ."

Peter was feeling incredibly doubtful. But he did trust his father and so he followed him back into the house. Waiting in the hallway was a tall man who looked like he was from Haiti. Peter felt a ripple of concern rush through him and he took a step back as his father started speaking rapid French. The instinct to run was too strong for Peter and he started off towards the stairs but the Haitian caught his arm.

"Let me go!" Peter cried, kicking out and catching the man on the knee. Then he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "Pete, calm down."

Peter stopped struggling and his father bent down next to him, pulling him into a tight hug. "You've got to trust me Pete. I'm trying to help."

Peter slowly realised that his father was crying, so he clutched him harder, trying to comfort him. Suddenly a hand covered his eyes and Peter began to panic. But then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

"I didn't know him that well," Detective 'call me Matt' Parkman said. "We worked together occasionally, generally when a kid got caught up in something they shouldn't have. Your dad would help him out, even if he didn't get paid. Not that I ever got the impression he was strapped for cash."

They were sitting in a little diner opposite the police station, tucking into something that tasted like it had been waiting for them a while. Nathan had found that he liked the police officer, with his friendly persona and his easy conversation.

"I can't imagine he was," Nathan said. "He cut my mother off in the divorce."

Matt looked at him sympathetically. "That must have been tough for you."

Nathan shrugged. "I'm more interested in what you know of my brother."

Matt chewed on a french fry. "I met him a couple of times, great kid. Your Dad was crazy about him, was like a broken record."

Nathan nodded, worrying himself at how desperate he felt. "Anything else? Do you know where he's living?"

The policeman paused and asked, "How long is it since you saw your brother?"

There was a silence between them and eventually Nathan said, "14 years."

"Woah," Matt said. "How come you've never looked for him before?"

"I have spent 14 years looking for him!" Nathan exclaimed and forced himself to calm down. "I don't know how, but my father kept Peter out of contact."

Matt nodded. "He was a powerful man. Like I said, I didn't know him that well, but he was definitely knew important people."

"What about Peter?" Nathan prompted. Matt smiled, a little indulgently for Nathan's liking before answering, "He did Pre-Med at UCLA and then went to Yale Medical School. He moved to New York to start his internship."

Nathan's heart was beating uncomfortably fast as he said, his voice cracked, "In New York?"

Matt smiled at him. "Yeah. I don't have an address, I'm afraid. His wife's name is Becky. I think they met at Yale."

Nathan nodded, his mind already beginning to process the information. He needed to get back to New York. He could use all his contacts through the DA's office to hunt down medical interns in the city with the name Peter Anthony. He was close, he could feel it.

"Thank you Matt," Nathan said, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. "You have been so much help."

"Happy to do so," Matt said brightly. "If there's anything else I can do, just let me know."

Nathan shook his hand warmly and said, "If there's anything I can do for you, and I mean anything, feel free to ask."

Matt smiled and Nathan made his leave. He headed back to airport and got on the first flight back to New York, knowing that he was finally heading closer to his brother.

* * *

_14 years earlier_

Peter's head felt like lead. He tried to lift it but it hurt too much, causing him to let out an involuntary moan. He tried to open his eyes but the dim light of the room was too bright and he winced. He slowly became aware of fingers gripping his right hand tightly. He prised open an eye and a dim shape to his right gradually came into focus.

"Peter?"

"Dad?" Peter recognised the voice, and the face seemed familiar. Something twitched at the back of his mind and he felt panic rise in his chest. "What happened?"

"You were in an accident," his father said, reaching out to grip his shoulder. "A car wreck."

Peter lifted a hand to his forehead and found a bandage wrapped tightly around his skull. "What happened?"

His father's eyes narrowed. "Don't you remember?"

Peter thought hard and couldn't think of anything to do with a car accident. In fact, he couldn't seem to remember much of anything. His father's face was still mysterious, it was more a feeling that made him sure of his identity.

"I don't remember anything," Peter said as worry gripped his heart. His father sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled him into his arms. "It's ok Pete, I'm here. I'll tell you whatever you need to know."

"What happened? In the accident I mean," Peter asked.

"Your mother was driving you home from school," his father said. "The car you were in was struck by a truck."

"And Mom?" Peter asked, his voice small and childlike, afraid for the answer. His father shut his eyes in grief. "I'm sorry Peter, she didn't make it."

A fierce sadness rose in Peter's chest, but he couldn't visualise his mother's face. "I don't remember her."

Tears rolled down his cheeks, more out of shame than grief. His father stroked his hair gently and said, "The doctor said you hit your head very hard in the crash. You had to have some tests on your brain and the specialist said that you have got amnesia, memory loss."

Peter's hands scrubbed at his face, wiping the tears away. "I can't remember my Mom, and now she's dead."

His father pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "It's ok son. I'm here."

Over the next few months Peter endured some very difficult rehabilitation treatment. His father, a lawyer, though Peter had forgotten, bought a house for them in Los Angeles.

"We used to live somewhere much colder," Peter said, as he sat in the garden in the beating sun. "I don't think I've ever been this hot."

"It wasn't always cold," Arthur said, looking up from his newspaper. "There were times…"

Peter looked at him but didn't ask what he was going to say. His father had been speaking in incomplete sentences since Peter's accident, since his mother died. He didn't press the issue, knowing that it upset his father to talk about it. But it didn't stop Peter thinking about it. Occasionally he had flashes of his life before the accident. Nothing meaningful, just a smell or a feeling, but it made him realise that something was missing and he knew his father felt it too.

After about six months Arthur and Peter made a trip to Texas. The only answer Peter got to his stream of questions was "wait and see" which wasn't really any sort of answer. In the end Arthur drove them to a small house on the outskirts of Odessa. Inside was a tall Haitian man that Peter's father seemed friendly with and Peter treated uneasily, for reasons he couldn't explain. The house belonged to the Bennet family, and there Peter was introduced to Claire.

Claire was a two-year-old girl who seemed to enjoy saying "no" and tolerated everything else. But she adored Peter from the moment he came into the room. Peter sat down with her and played with her toys as a man named Noah spoke to his father. After a whole day of being poked and holding a jam-covered hand, Peter had slumped on the sofa with Claire asleep on top of him. Arthur came in and declared, "So have you enjoyed getting to know your cousin?"

Peter jerked into a sitting position, thankfully not dislodging Claire. "Claire's my cousin?"

Arthur nodded, a smile stretching his features. Peter couldn't remember the last time his father had smiled properly. "Yep. So do you think we should visit some more?"

Peter nodded, smiling down at Claire. He was desperate for a family connection. A cousin who was barely able to talk wasn't the same as a big brother, but it was something, it was all he had.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

Nathan landed in New York and discovered he had eight messages from his mother on his answering machine. He ignored them all, deciding that he wanted to have had Peter in his sights before revealing him to their mother. She had been disappointed so many times before; Nathan didn't want it to happen again. So instead of heading to his mother's house he went to the DA's office. Thankfully Martin Forbes trusted Nathan and didn't ask questions when he asked for the address of Peter and Rebecca Anthony. There were three listed, but only one had Peter recorded as a doctor.

Nathan's heart was in his throat as he made his way to the address, ignoring the stench of the subway and the dirt layering the sidewalk. He shuddered when he reached the apartment block, the door had been forced open and no one had fixed it. He looked at the list of residents and fought down a grin, _Flat 142, Dr P and Mrs R Anthony_.

He pressed the buzzer and heard interference and disjointed words. Some instinct decided Nathan's mind for him and he pushed open the door and waited for the elevator. His palms were sweating in anticipation of finally finding Peter. The elevator shuddered to a halt and Nathan released a deep breath before stepping out into the darkened hallway of the fourteenth floor.

The first thing he heard was a curious _shush-shush_ sound and then saw what appeared to be snow drifting out of the door at one end of the corridor. Cautiously Nathan strode towards the open door and his military training started kicking in. From within the apartment, a woman screamed. Nathan dashed forward and saw a man dressed in dark clothing had pinned a brunette woman to the wall, but was using no implement at all. The man lifted a finger and though Nathan wasn't sure what he could do, he acted. He picked up a chair and smashed it over the man's back. Immediately the man dropped to the floor and the woman was released, Nathan moved to her side.

"Rebecca Anthony?" he asked and she stared at him. "Yes. How do you know my name?"

Nathan was about to respond when the man on the floor began to stir. He grabbed Rebecca's hand and ran out of the door, aware that the man was following them. They took the stairs, running down them two at a time. They reached the eleventh floor landing before the man in black caught up with them. Nathan was thrown against the wall, telekinetically. Rebecca was pinned against the wall again and once the man was in range Nathan sprang from the floor and kicked him in the chest. The man stumbled and reacting on sheer instinct Nathan pulled Rebecca tight to his chest and then jumped out of the window.

They fell for several stories before Nathan realised he could control the trajectory and speed of the flight. Gusts of air weren't frightening as they tugged at him; he found he was in a state of utter calm. Rebecca was shrieking in panic, but calmed as Nathan swooped onto a nearby roof and landed, staggering as he did so. Rebecca sat down on the roof and took a series of deep breaths. Nathan had a hand on his knees, bent over and breathing hard.

"You can fly," Rebecca said, her large blues eyes wide in wonderment.

"Apparently," Nathan said, his mind spinning at the repercussions of their flight.

"I can freeze things," she said, heaving herself to standing, her knees shaking. "Water, objects, anything."

Nathan nodded, trying to process the information and finding a numb response.

"You saved my life," she said, staring at him as if she had only realised he was there. "That man was trying to kill me."

"Yeah," Nathan said, leaning against the wall. She took a step towards him and said, "I'm Rebecca, but everyone calls me Becky."

"Nathan," he said, shaking her hand.

"Nathan," she said, testing it on her tongue. "What were you doing there? Do you live in the building?"

Nathan shook his head and gave a half laugh. He ran a hand through his hair. "I was looking for Dr Peter Anthony."

"Peter?" Becky looked suddenly suspicious. "Why are you looking for him?"

Nathan licked his dry lips and said, "I was tracing my family, I think we're related."

"Then I guess I'm really lucky then," Becky said, going a little green. "If you hadn't been there…"

"What did he want?" Nathan asked, more to the view than to Becky. She shrugged and stared out at New York with him. "I have no idea."

They stood in silence for a few moments and Becky said, "I can't help but think that this has something to do with Peter."

"What makes you say that?" Nathan asked. Becky bit her lower lip and said, "Peter went missing nearly a week ago. The police have no idea where he is."

Nathan's heart plummeted. "What happened?"

"I came home and found the apartment disturbed. The hospital said that he had been off all day." Becky looked miserable and Nathan rested a hand on her shoulder. "We'll find him. I haven't waited 14 years to lose him now."

"14 years?" Becky said. "How come it's taken you so long?"

Nathan gave a twisted grin. "I'm not really sure. Its seems that the planets have aligned against me finding him."

Becky looked doubtful. "Well you've found his wife, saved her life. When we find him I am going to make sure you become best friends."

"Thanks," Nathan said with a grin. "Has he ever mentioned me?"

Becky shook his head. "The only family he's ever mentioned is his dad, God rest his soul, and his cousin."

Nathan sighed. "Right. Wait, cousin?"

"Yeah," she said, her features displaying her displeasure. "Claire. Talk about clingy. Why, do you know her?"

Nathan shook his head. "No. I'm the other half of the family."

"Cousin?" Becky asked, her dark hair blown about in the wind. Nathan shook his head. "Nope. He's my long lost little brother."

There was a silence and then Becky said, "Wow. That's intense."

"Yeah," Nathan said softly. "Tell me about it."

"I think we should go to the police," Becky said finally. "Tell them about the bloke in my apartment and see if they have any information about Peter. I refuse to believe that you have found him a week too late. The universe does not work like that."

She looked at Nathan with such resolve that he couldn't disagree with her. He nodded and she relaxed. She looked around the roof and said, "If we can find a way down…"

Nathan grinned. "I can always fly us down."

Becky's returning smile was a little weak. "I think I'd prefer the elevator or the stairs."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Nathan teased and she smiled sweetly. "I think I left it behind in my apartment. Come on, let's try and force the door and get out of here."

* * *

_One Week Earlier_

Peter rolled over in bed as he heard his wife get up. After nearly a year of marriage nothing in their relationship was stale. Meeting Becky at Yale had been the best thing about going there, considering he had only gone there because it was his father's Alma Mater. He opened one eye and asked, "What day is it?"

"Thursday," Becky said, reaching over to give him a kiss. "You should stay put."

He shook his head and said, "And miss the chance to have breakfast with you? Never."

She smiled at him and he followed her into the kitchen, pulling on a robe as he went. They munched cereal together while watching the news and Peter felt very content. The loss of his father was so recent; it was like an open wound in his chest. But Becky was his rock and he was eternally grateful for having her in his life.

"Back to work tomorrow," she said, handing him a banana. He smiled and said, "I'm really looking forward to it."

"Freak," Becky said affectionately. "You are the only person I know who enjoys their job."

"Helping isn't really a job," Peter said, peeling the banana.

"It's a lot of school for not really a job," his wife told him. "Anyway, I should be off. Love you."

"Love you too," he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her gently. "Don't work too hard."

"Never a possibility," Becky said with a grin. "You should go back to bed and sleep a bit more."

"Or I could do some paperwork so I can actually see some patients tomorrow," Peter said and she rolled her eyes. "Whatever floats your boat hun. Bye."

He watched her leave and headed for the shower. He was still thinking about his wife as he stood under the hot spray and noticed that the water pressure was irregular. He tapped on the showerhead and the water froze. He stared at the icicles coming out of the head in shock. He tapped it a few more times and then decided to go back to bed. Clearly he was still half asleep.

He dressed quickly and stepped back into the apartment to find the place swarming with people in black combat gear. The one nearest Peter glanced at the icicles melting in the bathroom and yelled, "He's the one, grab him."

Peter tried to run but there were too many of them. As he made a break for the door he felt the burning static of a tazer bolt in his back and then nothing more.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

The NYPD took a statement from both Becky and Nathan, before announcing that they had no more information about Peter. Nathan had pulled all his weight as ADA but there was no new news for them to give. They had more to say about the mysterious man in Becky's apartment, telling Nathan of a serial killer known as Sylar who was murdering randomly across the country.

"You've been very lucky," the police officer told Becky who shuddered after being told of the other victims. "We may want to interview you two again, as far as we know no one has survived an attack by Sylar."

Becky had turned rather pale, and, as the police was searching her apartment, Nathan offered to put her up until they had a lead on Peter's whereabouts.

"Nice place," Becky said as she examined Nathan's apartment. She bounced a little on the sofa, ignoring his wince and then examined his photos. She smiled at the picture of Nathan with two young boys.

"Your sons?" she asked and Nathan nodded. "Monty and Simon."

"Where are they?" Becky questioned, realising the apartment was too small to hold children as well.

"With their mother," Nathan said. "I see them a lot. Our split, my wife and I, was fairly amicable."

"I see," Becky said, putting the photo back. "The risk of marriage."

"Yeah," he said. It had been a while since he had thought about Heidi as anything more than the mother of his children. "She thought that I was more devoted to finding my brother than the family. I mean, it wasn't just that, but I think jealousy was a fairly large reason why it didn't work."

"Jealousy is horrible," Becky agreed. "Oh my goodness! It's Peter!"

She was staring at the last photo Nathan had of him and his brother together, just after Nathan's twenty-fourth birthday. She ran a finger over Peter's face and said, "He looks so young, not more than 11 or 12."

"That's just before my father took him," Nathan said, ignoring the predictable twist in his stomach. Becky nodded, holding the picture tightly. "He looks so happy. In none of the other pictures he has of when he was that young does he look this happy."

Nathan nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I don't understand why he's never mentioned you," Becky said suddenly. "I know he had memory loss after a car accident when he was younger, but to forget his brother…"

"My father had means to keep Peter hidden while he was alive," Nathan said shortly. "I think he had more than enough ways of making sure Peter never remembered me."

The weight of what he had just said hit Nathan hard, like a truck to the chest. He sank down into the sofa beside Becky and said, "God, what if he doesn't remember me?"

"He will," Becky promised. "If I have to beat him over the head with a stick to churn up his brains, he'll remember you."

Nathan grinned at her and Becky returned to the photos. "Is that your Mom?"

Nathan turned his gaze to the photograph she was looking at. "Yeah."

"Wow," Becky said, staring at the smile of Angela Petrelli-Linderman intently. "She's my mother-in-law. I thought she was dead so I would avoid that problem, half of Peter's appeal really."

Nathan snorted. "I have to say that my wife and Ma never really got on."

"Great," Becky said sarcastically. "But then, my mom is horrible to Peter."

"Have you got siblings?" Nathan asked and Becky shrugged. "Not really. Some step-things, and an increasing number of half-things. But they're all a lot younger than me. Peter's my family."

"We really need to find him." Nathan pulled at his hair in frustration. He stood up from the sofa and pressed the button on his answering machine. He had another couple of messages from his mother, one from the DA and one from a genetics Professor.

"Mr Petrelli, my name is Dr Mohinder Suresh. I believe that you may be developing some sort of ability, something in your genetic code. I also believe that you could be in grave danger. Please, return my call so I can talk to you about this further."

Becky and Nathan looked at each other in shock.

"Oh my God." Becky breathed. "We should call him back."

"What if he's the guy who attacked you?" Nathan said.

"He wouldn't be ringing people up," Becky said earnestly. "Come on Nathan, you can fly and I can freeze things! Maybe he'll know something about Peter!"

Nathan frowned, deep in thought. "Had Peter shown any signs of flight or anything?"

Becky shook her head. "No. I mean, I told him about me freezing stuff and we tested it a bit, but he never seemed to be able to do anything like that."

Nathan tapped his chin with two fingers and then said, "Ok. We'll call him."

...

Mohinder Suresh, an Indian geneticist, was ridiculously excited by Nathan's call. He was desperate for them to meet up, which was something Nathan was not keen on at all, but Becky convinced him otherwise.

"We have no other lead to Peter," she had said. "The police don't know anything. We have to do it ourselves."

Finally Nathan had agreed and the following day they were climbing stairs of an apartment block in a part of the city Nathan really didn't want to be in. Considering they had known each other for less than a day, Becky was bossing Nathan around like a mother.

"You should try and find out how he knew you had powers," Becky said as they counted the apartments. "Maybe he has some sort of tracking device."

"Ok," Nathan said, desperately trying to stay patient. She was his sister-in-law; she was supposed to be annoying.

"This is it," Becky said, reading the number of the nearest door. Nathan checked his belt for his gun; he wasn't going to take any risks. He rapped on the door three times and a handsome Indian man appeared, looking delighted to see him.

"Mr Petrelli?" he said and Nathan nodded. "I'm Mohinder Suresh, I'm so pleased you're here."

Nathan frowned and Becky stepped forward. "I'm Rebecca Anthony, I can freeze things."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her Nathan followed Becky into the apartment, noting the giant map of the world that dominated the opposite wall.

"Tea?" Mohinder asked and Nathan refused, and after a warning look, so did Becky.

"So," Nathan said, folding his arms and glaring at Mohinder. "How did you know about my ability?"

"It was speculation really," Mohinder said sincerely. "A theory, my father's. He postulated that people with the right genetic makeup could have extraordinary abilities. He even went so far as to predict which people could have these abilities. That is what the map is, tracking people on my father's list."

"And I'm on this list?" Nathan asked as Becky went to investigate the map. Mohinder nodded. "And you said on the phone that you have an ability? Can I ask what?"

"Flight," Nathan said, certain that Mohinder's intentions were scientific and honourable. The doctor's eyes went comically wide. "Can I see?"

Nathan sighed and concentrated hard. Very slowly, very gently, he rose from the floor. Mohinder looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Becky broke the moment by giving a cry of surprise. Nathan landed back on the ground with a bump as she came dashing back into the room.

"The paintings!" she cried. "There are paintings of Peter!"

Nathan pulled out his gun and aimed it at Mohinder who gulped, his hands rising to the level of his ears. Becky seized Nathan's arm and forced the gun trajectory to the floor. "Nathan, they're of you as well."

"They were painted by a man called Isaac Mendez," Mohinder said, cautiously lowering his arms. "I think he can paint the future."

Nathan strode into the other room, which was full, ceiling to floor, of canvases. Becky pointed to a group of pictures in the corner, which depicted two men watching each other warily. Nathan recognised himself and Becky ran hand over the other man. "Its Peter, I'm sure."

* * *

_Six Days Earlier_

Peter's back was aching and he was lying face down in the pitch dark. He guessed he was in some sort of truck and his wrists were handcuffed over his head, meaning he was utterly trapped. He fought himself to take some deep breaths and calmed himself. He was alone in the dark and he had no idea where he was going.

He briefly remembered coming to a few hours earlier. He had seen a lot of unfamiliar faces and hearing a discussion about 'powers' that meant nothing to Peter. He had tried to fight, but they had injected him with something and he had immediately passed out. As he lay in the dark he vowed to find out who had done this to him and get revenge. His father had taught him not to take any type of injustice or maltreatment, and as soon as he could stand, these people were going to wish they hadn't messed with him.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Thank you to my reviewers, I wouldn't have got this far without you.

* * *

Chapter Six:

Nathan was staring at the painting of himself and whom Becky had identified as Peter, trying to visualise what his brother looked like from the shape of the brushstrokes. It was difficult to tell, but it was the best he had.

"Isaac painted these last week," Mohinder said. "Then he disappeared. He gave me some warning and I managed to take these but the place was cleared out when I went back."

"Look," Becky said, peering closer at the painting, as Nathan was distracted of the one next to it, one of Peter with a blonde girl, both looking defiant. "There's something written on the wall behind them."

Nathan and Mohinder both stepped closer. "Primatech Paper…"

"Primatech Paper is a paper company listed to Odessa, Texas," Mohinder said, reading off the address from an Internet web page. Becky was noting the address on a post-it as Nathan stood staring at the painting of him and Peter. Exploring further had revealed a painting of Nathan flying with Becky, similar to what had occurred the previous day and most shockingly, Peter lying dead from a gunshot wound.

"We're going to Texas," Nathan said, leaving the paintings to return to Mohinder and Becky. "What do you say Dr Suresh? Are you going to join us?"

Mohinder hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "One of the people of the list lives in Odessa. I could visit them after we have found this Peter."

"My husband," Becky said and then pointed to Nathan. "His brother."

"Right," Mohinder said, flashing a bright smile. "Lets get going."

Landing at Midland airport the next day Nathan couldn't help a feeling of anxiety settle at the back of his mind. He collected his bag and waited for Mohinder, who had managed to bring a suitcase's worth of notes and electronic equipment. Becky hadn't managed to get back to her apartment so Nathan had spent the previous afternoon shopping. He had forgotten how much he hated it. Becky clearly had never experienced having much money. Peter must not have let on how much money his father had left him, as she was like a kid in a candy store when Nathan handed over his credit card. It was an experience he didn't want to repeat.

"Mohinder, how long do you think we're staying?" Becky stared in horror at the amount of bags he was collecting.

"I need things," Mohinder said defensively. "DNA samples and books and computer equipment. Not things you can put in a holdall."

"Ok," Becky said, raising her hands in surrender. "Right. Nathan, get a hire car. I'll find a motel or something, just in case we need a base. Mohinder, you can guard the stuff."

Nathan and Mohinder shared a look before the former headed to the hire car section. He was beginning to feel that his brother had turned into a bit of a masochist, marrying the bossiest woman in the world. But then, as he reached the counter, he decided he was being unfair. He was travelling across the country to find the brother he hadn't seen in 14 years. Becky was looking for her husband and someone had tried to kill her, no wonder she was a little highly strung. He booked the car with ease and returned to Mohinder, finding Becky was back as well.

"We have a room if we need it," she said. Nathan cast a glance over Mohinder's belongings and said, "We should probably drop off some of this stuff first. When we find Peter we'll want somewhere to crash for a bit anyway."

"True," Mohinder said. "He might be injured."

Becky bit her lip and said, "Let's just find him before any of that kind of stuff can happen."

The motel room was not somewhere Nathan would have chosen to stay, but it was cheap. It was one room for four people and it was clean. Mohinder spent about an hour setting up various bits of equipment while Becky paced. Nathan cleaned his gun, which he knew was making Becky even more nervous.

"I'm not going in there unarmed," he said. Becky nodded. "I know. I just wish you didn't have to be armed."

"Its getting dark," Mohinder commented and Becky dashed to the window. "Will we have to wait till morning?"

Nathan shook his head. "No, it's going to be easier after dark."

Becky slumped onto the nearest bed and said, "I can't believe that we're here based on a painting."

"Only lead we had," Nathan said. "And there was one of us in flight. We've got to keep positive."

Becky nodded, but Nathan could see the tears forming in her eyes. Knowing he wasn't good at being 'emotionally available' he looked to Mohinder who had already moved to put his arm around her.

"It's ok," he said quietly. "We'll find him."

* * *

_Two Days Earlier_

Four days since he had arrived at the mysterious white-walled facility, Peter was yet to see another living soul. He knew there were people about, the walls weren't particularly sound proof and someone was coming in to leave food every so often. His attempts to escape were unsuccessful, starting with bashing his fists against the door and ending with him throwing a chair at it. All this had achieved was bloody knuckles and nothing but a narrow bed to sit on.

As he was cleaning his damaged hand he heard the door to his cell unlock and a smiling, grey haired man stepped into the room.

"Good evening Mr Anthony," he said. Peter glowered at him. "Doctor."

"Apologies," the man said, sweetly. "Dr Anthony. My name is Thompson. You are probably wondering what you are doing here."

"That would be a safe guess," Peter said shortly, folding his arms in front of his chest. The man kept grinning and Peter forced himself to keep calm.

"I'm sorry to say that I think it was all a mistake," Thompson said. "But just to make sure, we're going to take you for an MRI."

"Thanks but no thanks," Peter said sarcastically. "I'm fine actually, no headaches. No reason for you to be scanning my brain."

The gleam in Thompson's eye grew malicious. "I think you misunderstood me Dr Anthony. You will be taken for an MRI."

Peter's resistance failed when a tall man that looked very familiar to him stepped in to the room. Thompson pulled a gun on Peter as the other man placed his hand over Peter's eyes, the next thing he knew he was strapped down to some sort of operating table, with tubes in his arm and sensors on his face and chest. He fought against the restraints and Thompson came into view.

"Come on Doctor, fight your way out. Show us what you can do."

Peter bared his teeth and went still. Thompson kept smiling. "If its there, we'll see it Doctor. You can't hide from the company."

Peter remained motionless, and clearly Thompson found nothing that he was looking for, as after a few moments he sighed and said, "Shut it off."

Thompson moved out of Peter's sightline and spoke to an unknown associate. "Wipe him, and then release him in a couple of days."

The sound of Thompson's footsteps disappeared and the same man who had subdued Peter before appeared. Instead of placing his hand over Peter's eyes he moved his mouth close to Peter's ear and spoke with a French affectation.

"I was a friend of your father's. I did not know it was you before you were brought in. I have forged the results so these people won't know about your power and should leave you alone. Now they want me to remove your memories of this place. But I will not do that. I will not damage your memory unless you request it. You must pretend that you do not remember. Do not look for this place, and do not look for me."

Peter's eyes widened as the Haitian man undid his restraints and lead him back through a series of identical corridors, until he was back in his cell. The Haitian nodded to him and Peter nodded back, utterly thrown by what had occurred. He heard the door lock and sat down on his bed, knowing he only had a little while before he would be released.

He was close to drifting off to sleep when he heard the muted sounds of a girl crying. He sat up in bed and pressed his ear against the wall. It was much clearer and he realised he recognised the weeping. Pressing his hand up against the wall he spoke urgently.

"Claire?"

The crying stopped abruptly and he heard a snuffling reply. "Peter?"

"Claire, are you ok?" Peter said, scrambling to get as close to the wall as possible. "Have they hurt you?"

"No." Clare sniffed. "But my Dad…they killed him. I don't know where my mom went…"

Peter shut his eyes. "Oh, Claire. I'm sorry."

"I don't know what they want from me," his cousin said, tears in her voice. "They keep scanning me and testing me. I'm worried they're going to test me ability."

Peter's heart began to race. "Do they know what it is?"

He could hear Claire swallow through the paper-thin walls. "I think so. They haven't said anything directly, but they've implied pretty strongly."

"Ok," Peter said. "I'm going to get you out of here Claire. I promise."

"Thank you," Claire said, her voice sounding stronger now. "I'm so glad you're here Peter."

"Always," Peter promised. "I'll get us out of here."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

Nathan jiggled the door handle around the back of the Primatech Paper in the cover of darkness. Mohinder held a torch over the door as Becky kept an eye out for security.

"Do you have experience of this sort of thing?" Mohinder asked as Nathan began to pick the lock. The lawyer scowled at the geneticist and said, "Breaking and entering? I was in the Navy."

Mohinder nodded sheepishly and Becky pushed Nathan out of the way impatiently. "Let me have a go."

She laid her hand on the lock and as the others watched as the metal panel grew covered in ice. After another minute there was a large crack and the door swung open. Becky smirked at Nathan who rolled his eyes and took the lead into the building.

Low lighting illuminated the corridor and it took Nathan's eyes a moment to adjust to the light. His footsteps sounded on the floor, echoing back at him as Mohinder shut the door behind Becky. "Where to?"

"Keep going till we find him," Becky said, her face set with determination.

"It doesn't look much like a paper factory," Mohinder said, holding his torch aloft.

"That's because it's a cover," Becky said. She stopped and pointed at the nearest door. "Lets check them all."

The first door led to a closet. The second door, however, led to a series of further doors. Becky peered in a tiny window and whispered, "They look like cells. Maybe this is where they are keeping Peter?"

"Start checking," Nathan said, nodding to Mohinder who looked confused. "I don't know what he looks like!"

"If Peter is in here, then any of people in here probably shouldn't be here either," Becky said, already checking the other windows. Nathan moved to help, but all the cells were empty. Becky gave a slight huff of defeat and Nathan gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Next corridor, come on."

The next corridor showed more signs of life. There were two open doors leading to empty rooms; clearly someone had broken out of the cells. Nathan licked his dry lips and said, "Some sort of prison-break?"

"I don't blame them," Becky said. "Peter wouldn't stay imprisoned if he could help it."

They were about to move a bit further into the complex and further from safety when Nathan felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Reacting purely on reflex, he grabbed hold on Becky's shoulders and pushed her to the floor. Just in time, as a split second later a ceiling panel went flying over their heads. Nathan looked up at Mohinder who stared at the doorway they were just about to go through, paralysed with fear. Sylar stood on the threshold, his dark eyes glittering in the gloom of the corridor.

Sylar's arm rose and Nathan felt himself pulled to standing by some external force, Becky coming with him. Her chin was lifted defiantly and Nathan felt strangely proud of her as Sylar prepared to finish the job he had started two days before. Mohinder stood off to one side, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the geneticist reach down to pick up the gun Nathan had dropped. He swung his arm up and pointed the weapon at the murderer and said, "Release them!"

A deep, rumbling laugh broke out of Sylar like some terrible nightmare sound. "I don't think so."

Too many things happened at once. Mohinder fired, Sylar telekinetically threw him into the wall and the cell door nearest Sylar exploded open, knocking Nathan and Becky off their feet.

When Nathan came to, either seconds or minutes later, Sylar was gone. Instead a man with wild hair and wilder eyes was shaking him awake, his hand on Nathan's shoulder.

"Is he gone?" Nathan asked and the man nodded. "I think so. By the time I had got through what was left of the door he had disappeared."

"Good," Nathan said, sitting up. "Thank you."

"He didn't look like a good sort," the man said. "I'm Ted Sprague by the way."

"Nathan Petrelli," Nathan said. He reached out to shake Ted's hand but the other man gave an embarrassed laugh and said, "Probably not for the best."

He showed Nathan his hand; the skin on the palm was red and sore, like it had been burnt. Nathan's eyes narrowed. "How did you get out of the cell?"

Ted gave a half grin. "I blew it up. I'm the radioactive man."

Nathan nodded, trying not to look too freaked out. He leant over to where Becky lay and she awoke instantly at his touch. "Peter?"

"Not yet," Nathan said. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," Becky said, standing. "Mohinder?"

"Ow." the geneticist came into view, rubbing his head with his free hand, the other remained on the gun.

"This is Ted Sprague, he's radioactive," Nathan said, pointing at their rescuer. "This is Becky, my sister-in-law and Mohinder Suresh."

"Lets get out of here," Ted said. "I don't think I can take that guy by surprise again."

"I need to find my husband," Becky said obstinately. "We're going this way."

Nathan gave Ted an apologetic shrug. "We're going this way. You don't have to come with us."

Ted shook his head. "And miss the chance to bring this place down? I'm coming."

So the four of them continued to the next corridor and as they checked the next set of cells, the lights went out. They stood in total darkness and heard footsteps approach.

"Not Sylar again!" Becky whispered in a panic, clutching at Nathan's arm. At the end of the corridor they could just make out the shape of a man in the doorway, backlit by moonlight through a skylight. Nathan waited for the prickle of fear, but nothing happened. The man just stood there, as if adjusting to the darkness. He began to raise his arm but Mohinder reacted first, firing two shots. The man crumpled and Ted generated light from his hands. Nathan and Becky dashed forward to subdue Sylar but stopped as a blonde girl of about 16 appeared in the doorway. She took one look at the scene and then gave a scream of horror.

"Peter!"

* * *

_18 hours earlier_

Peter sat in the dark of his cell, his back against the side wall, thinking hard as Claire slept. He tried to understand the Haitian's message but had no idea what his 'power' could be. He was amazed and reassured that his father was managing to protect him from beyond the grave. He didn't sleep; he was too preoccupied with his thoughts. He watched as the sunlight brightened his cell and heard a little snort and cough before Claire whispered, "Peter?"

"I'm here," he said. "Trying to figure out how to get out of here."

"I could use myself as a battering ram," Claire suggested.

"Veto," Peter said, smiling. "You maybe indestructible but you're really not a battering ram."

"Have you got a better idea?" she asked and Peter shrugged and then remembered she couldn't see him. "Not at the moment. But we've got hours until we can escape."

"I'm scared," Claire said, her voice shaking slightly.

"I know," Peter said, his mouth dry. He reached out to take a sip of water and sighed, thinking of how worried for him Becky must be. He thought about her power, and how it would have been nice for the Haitian to give him something more than vague hints about his power. He was about to take another sip and nothing happened. He looked at the container and realised he was holding ice. In surprise, he dropped the glass, which shattered on the floor.

Peter yelped in pain and swore as piece of glass cut into his foot.

"Peter?" Claire spoke through the wall.

"I'm ok," Peter said, sitting back down at the bed. "If I had your power I wouldn't have a cut foot…"

He let his voice trail off as he watched his foot heal on its own. "Woah!"

"What's going on Peter?" Claire called, sounding panicked. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Peter said, running a finger over the healed cut. "I think I've just worked out what my power is."

By the time the light in his cell began to diminish Peter had managed to freeze the lock on his door. Claire hadn't been taken out of the room; they hadn't seen anyone all day. They had been fed through a hatch but there had been no reappearance of Thompson or the Haitian.

"Its dark," Claire said, after knocking on the wall to get Peter's attention.

"I'm nearly ready," Peter said and he kicked the door open, breaking the lock as he did so. He paused for a moment, expecting some sort of alarm, but he heard nothing and hurried to Claire's door, the corridor growing darker by the minute. He froze the lock quickly and moments later he was hugging his cousin tight to his chest.

"Lets get out of here," he said, taking her hand. They made their way through the darkening corridors, climbing stairs and moving through corridors. They finally reached the ground floor and Peter pushed at the nearest door, earnestly looking at the outside, to freedom.

"Door's locked. I'm going to try freezing it," Peter said, Claire keeping her eyes peeled. It didn't work. Peter gave a sigh of frustration and said, "Next door."

They moved through the dark hand in hand. Peter stopped suddenly when he heard footsteps behind them. He pushed Claire against the wall as he felt power surge through him. Suddenly he was flung against the opposite wall and Claire started screaming. Peter concentrated on Claire and felt his bones knot back together. The next instant he mimicked the man bearing down on Claire and telekinetically threw him into a power board. What light that had illuminated them, disappeared.

Peter felt for Claire's hand and said, "As soon as you can see, find a way out. Keep within shouting distance. We have to get out of here."

Claire squeezed his hand in response before dashing away. Peter laid his hand on the wall, following the corridor. He could hear voices ahead of him, but couldn't see. He had the familiar sensation of accumulating power, and felt safe. He was about to speak when there were two short bangs and his chest exploded with pain. He was dimly aware of Claire screaming his name before he passed out.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The wounded man was lying on his back, a dark stain colouring his shirt. Nathan stumbled forward as Becky let out a whimper, "Peter."

She fell to her knees and started shaking the man's shoulders. The blonde girl was frantically whispering, fighting with Becky to get close to him. The man's face was lit up suddenly as Ted used his power and Nathan saw his mother's skin, his father's jaw. His heart physically pained him as he watched the brother he had spent 14 years trying to find die in his wife's arms.

Anger boiled in his blood and he spun, his fist connecting with Mohinder's jaw. The geneticist fell to the floor with a crash and Nathan yelled, "What the hell? You shot my brother!"

Mohinder rubbed his chin as he sat on the floor, tears forming in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I thought he was Sylar."

"You thought wrong," Nathan snapped, about to punch him again when Becky shouted, "Nathan. It was an accident. We need to get Peter to hospital."

Nathan pooled all his self-control and moved back towards the doorway where Peter lay. He noticed the blonde girl for the first time and said, "Who are you?"

"Claire," Becky answered for her, ripping off the sleeve of her shirt to press into the gunshot wounds. "She's Peter's cousin."

The girl's eyes were red and she spoke in a soft Texan voice. "Becky, what are you doing here?"

"Rescuing Peter," Becky said shortly. "Nathan, help me get him up."

She looked at Nathan desperately, who found that his mind had gone completely blank. He had no idea how to make his arms work. Peter wasn't moving. Peter was pale and a huge quantity of blood was pooling on the floor. Nathan reached down and felt Peter's throat. There was no pulse.

He let out a wracking sob and fell to his knees next to his brother's body. His mind alternated between terrible grief and fierce anger. He couldn't lose Peter now; he didn't think he would cope. A small, warm hand laid on his and he heard a whisper. "Give him a minute."

Claire's fingers laced with his and she pressed their hands on Peter's abdomen, just below the entry wounds. A moment later Peter's chest heaved and his eyes opened. He struggled to a sitting position as the others stared at him in amazement. His breath came out in hacking coughs and he spat out two shiny silver bullets.

"Ugh," he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He wiped his mouth, looking surprised at the blood he found there. Nathan couldn't help but stare, his hand still in Claire's. Becky was sobbing, and she threw herself forward, her arms going around Peter's neck. He looked pale and stunned, but patted her arm and said, "I'm ok Becky, I'm ok."

Becky gave a sniff and said, "Don't ever do that again."

"Don't plan to," he said gently. "Getting shot hurts."

Nathan and Claire sat side-by-side, their shoulders touching, in front of Peter, the latter not able to speak. Nathan could feel Claire shaking slightly and then wondered if it was him that was shivering. He knew he was going into shock and they really needed to get moving. In the silence the lights flickered again and Ted said, his voice firm and commanding, "We really need to get out of here."

Mohinder struggled to his feet and came up to stand by Nathan, staring down at Peter in awe. "Ted's right. Sylar could be back at any moment, and I'm sure the captors know that there's been a breach."

"Back to the motel," Becky said, an icy calm taking over her features. "Peter's lost a lot of blood. I want to check him out."

"I'll be ok," Peter insisted, but his eyes were moving in and out of focus. Nathan stood up and said, "Alright. Becky, you and I will help Peter. Ted, you can light the way. Mohinder, if you could try and point the gun at those who are trying to kill us rather than the people we are trying to rescue that would be great."

Mohinder had the sense to look sheepish and ashamed. He picked up the gun as Nathan moved to Peter's side, ducking his hand under his brother's arm. Becky moved to Peter's other side and Claire said, "What should I do?"

"Keep safe," Peter mumbled and Claire gave him a bright smile. Nathan felt himself warm with pride at his brother, but pushed the feeling away, knowing that they were still at risk.

"Stay with Becky and Peter," Nathan told her, thinking briefly that her eyes looked very familiar. He looked around at their surroundings and wondered how Sylar hadn't found them yet, if they were about to walk into a trap.

"Use the first emergency exit you find," he told Ted, grasping Peter's hand as his arm wrapped around his shoulder. "We need to get out of here."

Ted led the odd crew through the darkened corridors, Mohinder bringing up the rear. Everyone was quiet; Nathan could hear the blood pounding in his ears as they shuffled forward. Peter was almost a dead weight, his attention clearly waning as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Up ahead they saw the red blur of the emergency exit and Nathan let himself heave a sigh of relief.

"You look familiar," Peter mumbled, lifting his head to within an inch of Nathan's face. Nathan met Becky's gaze and he said, "Oh yeah?"

"Are you on television?" Peter asked sounding almost drunk, as Ted kicked open the door. Becky gave a little giggle and Mohinder hissed, "I heard something."

Nathan helped Peter out of the door and said, "Get to the car."

Becky nodded and Claire took over helping Peter, the three of them moving away into the night. Nathan hurried Mohinder through the door and slammed it firmly behind him. As Mohinder ran to catch up with Ted and the others Nathan paused, a familiar prickle running up the back of his neck. The next thing he knew he was flung back against the wall. All the air rushed out of his lungs and his head cracked painfully on the brick.

As he hung uselessly against the wall, his legs scrabbling to get some sort of foothold, Nathan saw the figure of a man dressed all in black step in front of him. A malicious smile stretched the Sylar's features and he whispered, "You stole my powers."

Nathan pulled at his throat, trying to release the hold on his neck, but there was nothing there. He began to panic, but forced himself to breathe. Sylar lifted a finger and then there was a gunshot, followed rapidly by another. It seemed that Mohinder had finally got his man. Sylar fell to his knees and Nathan didn't miss the opportunity to escape. Relying on pure instinct he pushed off the ground and felt the exhilaration of flight. He felt the cool night air on his skin and realised that he was shooting off into the sky at a speed he couldn't contemplate.

Nathan forced himself to a stop, his bones pulling at his skin as he hovered what seemed like miles above the sparkling lights of Odessa below him. For a moment he was lost in the beauty of the view, the thrill of flight. But then he remembered Peter, Becky and dove back down to Earth. The darkness made it difficult to judge the distance, but as he got closer he recognised the roof of Primatech Paper. He landed with a tumble and headed back to the fire exit.

There was no sign of Sylar beyond some a blood splattering by the door. He couldn't see any other evidence of disturbance. He carefully retraced their steps back to the car they had arrived in, but it was gone. He gave a sigh of relief. He prayed that they had escaped and headed for the motel.

* * *

_27 years earlier_

Nathan was doing homework, which he enjoyed, while listening to his mother singing, which he hated. She had been doing that more and more recently, but Nathan, being 12, didn't really care. He was more interested in finishing his algebra so he could go and play baseball with his Pop. He had another twelve minutes before his father was due home. Arthur would then kiss his wife, head upstairs for a shower and then would ask Nathan if he wanted to throw the ball around. That gave him 23 minutes to find x.

Nathan loved his family routine, mainly because he was the centre of it. His family was wealthy and he was the only child. There was no one else for his parents to dote on. The Petrelli family was large, all Italian families were, but most of the cousins lived too far away to have any impact on his life.

The math was complete with seven minutes to spare, so Nathan headed upstairs to find his favourite baseball while his father stomped on his way to the bathroom. As he passed Nathan's door Arthur poked his head in and said, "Son, hold off on the baseball a bit. Go downstairs and wait with your mother."

Nathan couldn't help feeling a little twinge of concern in his gut but his father gave him a reassuring smile and said, "Don't look so worried. Its good news."

It had to be something major, Nathan decided, to disturb the nightly routine. He went back to the sitting room and found his mother humming while sewing. Before Nathan could work out what was wrong with the situation Angela said, "Nathan, stop tossing that ball around. You're not a street urchin."

Nathan was about to point out that a street urchin was unlikely to have a baseball signed by half of the Yankees team, when his father strode in, his smile bright. Nathan was very suspicious by now and folded his arms in front of his chest in a show of defiance. His mother and father shared a look.

"Nathan, this is going to come as a big shock," Angela began and Nathan began to panic. He gnawed at his bottom lip as his father said, "Your going to be a brother."

Nathan's mouth fell open and he suddenly felt warm all over, like being immersed in a deep, warm bath, full of bubbles. "A brother?"

"I'm pregnant," his mother said. "In a few months you are going to have a little brother or sister."

"A brother," Nathan decided, unable to stop himself smiling. "I'm going to teach him how to ride a bike, how to throw a decent pitch, how to swim…"

"Calm down son," Arthur said, placing a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "He, or she, is going to be a baby first. You need to let him, or her, grow up a bit first."

Nathan blinked at him and then, like an explosion of excitement, yelled, "I'm going to be a brother!"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine:

Nathan nearly broke the motel door down in his haste to make sure everyone had managed to escape from Sylar. Mohinder answered the door by putting a gun in his face, visibly sighing in relief when he recognised Nathan. The geneticist stepped aside and said, "I thought Sylar had got you."

Nathan gave him a terse smile and said, "Nearly. Where's Peter?"

Mohinder pointed back into the room. Peter was lying on the bed, still looking pale with blood drying on his clothes. Becky was on one side, her hand holding his tightly and Claire was on the other side, a little further away, but seemed worried. Nathan nodded to Ted who was sitting by the window, watching.

"How's he doing?" Nathan asked and Becky patted Peter's forehead with a cloth. "He's getting stronger. Just needs a good night's sleep and some water."

"Feel really tired," Peter said, the exhaustion clear in his voice. Becky shushed him and said, "Well then go to sleep. We'll turn off the lights."

Nathan nodded to Mohinder who made to flip the switch but Becky spoke first. "Claire, you should probably try and get some rest. We've got four beds; we don't all need to be on guard."

"She's right," Nathan said before Claire or anyone else could protest. "Mohinder, Claire, Becky, sleep. Ted and I can keep an eye out. If we feel tired we'll swap and wake one of you guys up."

There was some scowling, particularly from Mohinder, and Becky asked, "What about Peter?"

"I'll sit with him," Nathan promised. Becky hesitated before taking the bed next to her husband. Nathan took up the seat she had just vacated, as Ted took the gun from Mohinder and stood by the door.

The night was still and on several occasions Nathan found himself close to drifting off to sleep. He jerked awake suddenly when he heard Peter give a breathy sigh.

"Are you ok Peter?" Nathan asked, instantly awake. "Do you need something to drink?"

Peter nodded, heaving himself up into a sitting position and smiling at Nathan in the gloom. "You do look really familiar."

"Huh," Nathan said, busying himself by fetching Peter the water glass. "Why do you say that?"

"You look a bit like my Dad," Peter said, squinting up at him. "But it's more than that, I feel connected to you."

"Maybe we're related," Nathan said, not entirely sure why he wasn't just telling Peter what he knew to be true.

"Maybe," Peter said, studying him carefully. "I'd like that. My family isn't very big, especially after my dad died."

"I'm sure your family is bigger than you think," Nathan said, looking at Peter earnestly, willing him to make the link between them.

"Maybe," Peter said again, the sleep clear in his voice. He smiled weakly at Nathan and said, "I've always wanted a brother…"

Nathan froze, staring down at Peter who had fallen back to sleep. Whether Peter had any real idea as to what he had just said Nathan wasn't sure, but it was clearly apparent that Peter did not remember having an older brother, even in Nathan's presence. Sighing, Nathan swapped places with Ted by the door, gazing out into the night, lost in thought.

Morning came without incident. Peter, the only medical professional on site, declared himself fit to travel, saying, "I need to practise this healing thing."

Mohinder went to settle the bill as Ted organised transport for everyone to head back to New York. That had triggered an outburst of tears from Claire, which had lead Peter to put a comforting arm around her and talk to her in whispers for a few moments.

"Her father was killed when she was taken," Becky explained to Nathan. "She doesn't think her mother and her brother will be safe if she ends up going back there. Peter says he won't let her come back with us, but he will, she has him wrapped around her little finger."

Nathan smiled knowingly as Peter and Claire returned, the latter looking much happier and the former saying, "Becky, Claire's going to be staying with us for a while."

Becky rolled her eyes good-naturedly and said, "Then I'll need to set up the spare bedroom as soon as we get back."

Claire gave a squeak and threw herself at Becky who laughed. Peter caught Nathan's eye and shrugged. "We weren't going to let you go homeless Claire, you're family."

Nathan opened his mouth to say respond when his cell phone started buzzing in his pocket. He opened it and said, "Nathan Petrelli."

"Nathan, hi." It was Matt Parkman from LA. "I have something that might interest you."

Nathan met Peter's inquisitive gaze and said, "Ok, go ahead."

"I was going through an old case file, a kid's going to appeal, and I found a letter in amongst my notes."

Nathan resisted a biting comment and said, "Get to the point please."

"Right. The letter is for you," Matt said triumphantly. "And it's from your Dad."

"What?" Nathan broke eye contact with Peter and headed away from the others. "How can you be sure?"

"It's addressed to Nathan Petrelli," Matt said, solemnly. "And it's in your Dad's handwriting. There's no one else who has been on this case. It could only be your Dad. He must have known you were close to finding him."

"Or he knew he was going to die," Nathan said soberly. He scratched at his chin and said, "Ok Parkman. I'm coming back to LA; keep that letter safe until I get there."

"Will do," Matt promised. "So, have you found him yet?"

"Yes," Nathan said, staring back across at where the others were waiting.

"Say hi from me," Matt said brightly. "See you soon I guess."

"Yeah." Nathan snapped the phone shut, wondering how omniscient his father really was and headed back to the others.

* * *

Peter watched Nathan move away and wished he could pin down the feeling of recognition and warmth he had every time the other man was around. It was more than the resemblance to his father, there was something else, something more. Becky came up to him and slipped her hand into his.

"What do you think of Nathan?" he asked her and she smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. "I think he's great. Saved my life."

"Yeah?" Peter said, squeezing her hand. "How come?"

"Sylar broke into our apartment," Becky said and shook her head at Peter's shocked expression. "But Nathan was there, so I was fine. He flew us out of danger."

"He can fly?" Peter grinned. "Cool."

"What about you?" Becky said. "Healing, ice, maybe you can fly as well."

"I'll jump of the Brooklyn Bridge and try it," Peter said with a wry smile. There was a tinny ringing noise and Mohinder, who had been trying to cheer up Claire with talk of India, answered his phone.

"Isaac? Calm down! Yes it's Mohinder. Who? Japanese… Peter Anthony Petrelli? Yes, I'm with him. Hang on."

Mohinder placed his hand over the mouthpiece and said to Becky and Peter who were listening intently. "The guy who painted the pictures in my apartment is back. He says he has two Japanese guys in his loft, and they are looking for Peter Anthony Petrelli."

"That's me, and Nathan sort of," Peter said. "Why do they want to talk to us?"

Mohinder went back on the phone and said, "Yes Peter's here. Why do they want to talk to Peter…? I see."

"Isaac has painted the destruction of New York," Mohinder told them. "And the Japanese guys think they can stop it, if they speak to you."

Peter and Becky shared a look, the former saying finally, "Well, we'll be there by tomorrow. Is that ok?"

Mohinder talked to Isaac for a bit longer as Claire, who had been listening in, said, "Bit weird that they know your name."

"Very," Becky agreed. Peter shrugged as Nathan came back over.

"Change of plans," the older man said. "I need to go back to LA. I'll meet you in New York in two days."

"Bad news?" Peter asked him and the expression on Nathan's face was unreadable. "We'll see."

* * *

Nathan said goodbye to the others at Midland airport and watched as their plane took off. A selfish part of him wished that he could go back with them, get to know Peter a bit better, but the letter was bound to be important. Just before boarding his flight he rang his mother.

"I've found him," Nathan said, trying to keep his voice calm but knew he was failing. "He's heading back to New York now."

"Oh my," Angela said, her voice sounding distant down the phone. "Have you told him that you're his brother?"

"Not yet," Nathan said. "We didn't meet under the best circumstances. There was no time to have a proper chat."

"What's he like?" his mother asked quietly.

"Tall as I am," Nathan said, trying to give her the most accurate report. "Dark hair, dark eyes, looks like a Petrelli. Earnest, modest, I met his wife, she's nice too, though you'll probably hate her."

"Probably." Angela laughed, but it sounded suspiciously like she was crying. "What does he do for a living? Does he remember us?"

"He's a doctor," Nathan said, then he paused, not wishing to pass on the bad news. "He didn't recognise me, said his only family was his dad. Said I looked a bit like him though."

Angela was silent for a long moment, and then said, "We must be able to do something. I'll start looking up memory specialists. When are you home so I can meet him?"

"Two days," Nathan said. "I've got a meeting in LA first."

"Hurry back," Angela told him. "I want to have my boys together, at last."

There was something in the way she said 'at last' that sent a chill down Nathan's spine. He hung up the phone and wished that he didn't feel like that he had made a really big mistake.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten:

Matt Parkman was waiting for Nathan at the airport. Nathan's forehead wrinkled in confusion as the policeman finished off his donut and said, "I'm here to take the next flight to Vegas. If you saw Sylar there, then I'm on it."

Nathan nodded. "So they've got you on the case."

"Yeah," Matt said. "I have vital skills that no one else has."

"Well don't get killed," Nathan told him as they went to sit in a departure lounge café. Matt grinned and said, "Thanks man. How's Peter?"

"Going back to New York," Nathan said.

"Does he know you're his brother yet?" the policeman took a sip of his coffee after he asked.

"Not yet," Nathan said, rubbing at his head. "It's not the easiest thing to just bring up in conversation, particularly with the last few days we've had. I've told Becky though, and she says she'll help me out."

"Just don't let her steal your thunder," Matt said, standing up as his flight was called. He reached into his pocket as passed over a yellowing envelope. "I hope it's good news."

"Any news at this point is good," Nathan said. "Anything that explains… Thanks Matt."

"No problem," Matt said. "See you around."

Nathan watched him go for a few beats before turning his attention to the letter in his hand. Clearly written on the front of the envelope was 'Nathan Petrelli' in his father's sloping script.

* * *

August 2006

_Los Angeles_

_Nathan, my beloved eldest son._

_I want to begin by apologising for taking Peter from you just as you were really getting to know him. I have detailed my reasons here, and hope that afterwards you will understand my motives better and not view me as the monster you no doubt do._

_Taking Peter and leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and as it draws to an end I don't think anything will be more difficult. I never wished up to break up our family, but under the circumstances I had no choice. Over the years I have constantly doubted my decision, especially at the times when Peter desperately needed a big brother and I was the reason he didn't have one to turn to._

_I know that you have been looking for us, and I never expected you to forget him. We have actually spoken on the telephone more than once, but on all occasions I was able to convince you I was an Italian restaurant owner, or an angry old man. On one such phone call Peter was standing beside me at the time and had believed me to be going crazy as I pretended to be a Hollywood agent. So I commend you Nathan, for coming so close. If you are reading this before November 7__th__, Peter cannot be far from you._

_Now for explanation. You of course remember that terrible day your daughter and Meredith died. I am horrified to inform you that your mother and I may have caused, indirectly, the fire at their home. We were determined to keep a close eye on Meredith and make sure our granddaughter was in the best hands. But somehow Meredith was spooked and set the house on fire to flush out the spies. The house burnt down and she was killed. Claire was not. Your mother and I decided that rather than leaving you with the life of a single father, which you would have coped with admirably I am certain, we would have Claire adopted. Your mother and 'friends' of ours had plans for you Nathan, and being a single parent was not one of them._

_They also had plans for Peter, much more terrible plans. _

_As you have no doubt discovered by now, you the ability to fly. This was long known by your mother and me, as we have certain abilities as well. Peter is perhaps the most gifted of us all. He is able to absorb any other ability and use it as his own. Your mother and her cronies wished for a large proportion of New York to be destroyed, to propel you towards the White House as a great leader in dark times. But millions of people would die and Peter would be the one to do it._

_I could not let that happen. I had kept my silence for many years as the plans for this terrible occurrence were drawn up, but I could not let Peter die. Even if he had the capacity to survive such a disaster, I would not let him be responsible for that number of deaths. _

_So I took him. I had his memory wiped, as no young child should have to deal with being severed from his family, and took him as far away as necessary. It was immensely difficult, especially as I had to maintain a silent presence so people knew not to look too close for him. _

_Peter, thankfully, has thrived. We grew very close, not surprisingly, and though we fought on occasion, I will never regret having the opportunity to shape him. When he left high school, with grades that rivalled yours, he wanted to become a nurse. I said he should try being a doctor. Peter threatened to move out, with a stubbornness that reminded me vividly of you. My health had begun to fail, and Peter ended up at UCLA doing Pre-Med. By the time med school came round he was determined to follow in my footsteps (and yours) and go to Yale. There he met the lovely Becky, whom he married last year._

_If my time is as short as I feel it is, you must find Peter before your mother does and keep them apart at all costs. She will have ways of making her plot happen, even at this late stage. When Peter finds out what I did, I don't think he will easily forgive me, whether he remembers you and your mother or not. You must stop Peter and your mother meeting until after November 7__th__. If you love your brother as much as I do, you must do this, whether you believe me or not._

_I am immensely proud of you Nathan. The reform you have instigated at the DA's office is astounding. I am sorry to say that I will never get the opportunity to meet my grandsons, but Claire has grown into a stunning young woman who takes just after her father. If you wish to meet her ask Peter to introduce you to his cousin Claire. They are great friends, as I made sure we were present in her life._

_I know that if you are reading this we will never meet again, and I am very sorry for that. A day did not pass when I did not miss you, and your mother. I just hope my sacrifice has not been in vain._

_Please tell Peter I am sorry._

_All my love,_

_Your father, Arthur Petrelli_

Nathan stared at the letter, rereading it over and over as the words slowly filtered into his brain. It was ludicrous! How could his father and mother known about the powers? How could they interfere with his daughter so much? Did his mother really want Peter to kill millions of people? He took a deep breath and tried to get his mind straight. What his father had said had confirmed his earlier feeling; his mother wanted Peter for something more than an emotional reunion.

* * *

Peter wandered out of JFK airport and thought of his poor bank account and how he was incredibly grateful for his dad leaving him so much money. Cross-country travelling wasn't cheap. He squeezed Becky's hand as Mohinder started chattering on his phone again, apparently informing Isaac and the mysterious Japanese pair that they had arrived.

But the Japanese pair weren't very mysterious when met up close. The smaller one, Hiro, had nearly pulled Peter's arm off when he had shaken his hand a little too enthusiastically. Then he had started chirping, half in broken English, half in Japanese about a bomb.

"Terrible!" Hiro said, making the sounds and hand gestures of an explosion as the painter, Isaac, worked behind them in a fury. "You must stop!"

Peter blinked at him as the other man, Ando, conversed with Hiro in Japanese before announcing. "There will be a terrible explosion. Peter Petrelli is the only one who can stop it."

Peter sighed and looked at Becky who seemed to hesitate a little before shrugging. "I'm not him. My name is Peter Anthony."

Ando relayed it to Hiro who gabbled a bit more. "No!" Ando translated. "I met you, in the future; you are the one we need."

"You went to the future?" Claire, who had been silent since landing in New York, spoke. "You can travel through time?"

After a bit of Japanese and gesturing Ando said, "Yes. Hiro can bend time and space."

There was a silence after that until Becky whispered, "Cool."

"So you can go back in time?" Claire asked. "And save people?"

Peter looked over to her where she sat small and fragile on the painter's sofa. Her father was murdered in front of her and she had no idea where her mother and brother were. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder as Hiro, through Ando, explained the complexities of time travel as best he could. Claire smiled up at him and Peter looked up to meet Ted's eyes. The radioactive man said, "If there's going to be an explosion Peter and I would probably the ones to cause it, but I think those people who captured us have something to do with it."

"What do you suggest?" Mohinder asked and Ted gave a shrug. "I think me and Peter should go and hunt them down."

"What?" Becky stood up to her full height and glared at Ted. "I won't send my husband back into harm's way. He got shot last time!"

"That was an accident," Mohinder said defensively.

"Ted and I are the only ones with powers that can be used as weapons," Peter said, trying to calm his wife. She shook her head. "I can freeze things, I can help."

"You don't know where to go," Ando said, breaking from informing Hiro of the conversation.

"I do." They all looked up and saw Isaac holding painting of a building. In front of it stood three figures, Ted, Peter and Claire.

"That's our house!" Claire said. "The home where I grew up."

Peter squeezed Becky's hand again and said, "Then I guess we're going back to Texas."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven:

Nathan was exhausted. Flying around the country both in a plane and under his own steam meant that by the time he landed in New York again he was ready for a shower and some sleep. Then he was going to work on a plan to keep Peter out of New York for another week or so. He knew that he had the guile to convince Peter, but he knew his mother was going to be a problem, whether she chose to be or not.

He strode through JFK airport and switched on his cell phone. After finding the network it started buzzing maniacally. He watched in surprise as it declared its inbox full, he had over 200 new messages. A shiver ran down his back, this was not normal. He knew he was an important man, but he had only been out of contact for the flight back from LA. He dialled his voice messages and heard Gail, his assistant, sound panicked.

"Nathan, as soon as you land you must get to the office. Martin has been murdered! They found him in his apartment last night and have no idea how it happened. You're acting DA, so you better get in here now, everything's going crazy!"

Nathan took a deep breath and hailed a cab. On the way to the DA's office he heard a series of similar messages from Gail and other assistant DAs, growing increasingly panicked. Then, in amongst the horror and worry, there was a much calmer message. For a moment Nathan didn't recognise the voice.

_"Hi Nathan, Ted and I have got a lead in Texas. We're going to take Claire with us. Turns out the Japanese guys have got some really bad news for New York, and it's probably best that we're out of town. Mohinder reckons that I'm some sort of power sponge, absorbing everyone else's. If you could call back before 8pm that would be great. Oh yeah, I practised flying! Hit my head on the ceiling pretty hard, but still, how cool is that?"_

Peter. It was strange how quickly Nathan calmed on hearing his brother's voice, even when leaving such a worrying message. But in comparison to the chaos he was about to reach, tracking down people intending on trapping superheroes seemed much more appealing.

The taxi pulled up in front of the DA's office and there was a huge gaggle of press lined up outside. It took them a moment to realise who he was before they started yelling and taking his photos.

"Mr Petrelli!" "Nathan!" "Have you heard about Martin Forbes?" "Any idea for the reason of his murder?"

Nathan pushed past them and headed into the quiet of the lobby. The receptionist gave him a sad smile before saying, "I will call everyone to your office, Mr Petrelli."

"Go ahead," Nathan said, exhausted. "Actually, give me ten minutes, and we can meet in the conference room."

He took the elevator up to the 5th floor, his head spinning. He wondered briefly at the chances of getting to his office without everyone seeing him, and decided it was probably futile to hope for a cup of coffee before the madness descended.

He was right. The minute he stepped out of the elevator fifty people were talking at him at once. After about an hour of reassuring people that the District Attorney's office would function under his temporary leadership and that they would find out who had killed Martin, he felt a hand on his arm and Gail pulled him into the nearest empty space, which happened to be the ladies' toilet.

"You have to talk to the Mayor, four congressman and Senator Myles before you do anything," she told him, reading off her hand-held computer. "They all want to be reassured that there don't have to be any special measures put in place. The congress members and the mayor are about to board a flight back from Washington, the Senator wants to conference call. Then you have to speak to the ADAs about who are taking over your cases. The police commissioner wants to talk to you about who could have killed Martin and Heidi rang, saying she will take the boys this evening if you need the time."

She looked up briefly and smiled at him. "Got all that?"

Nathan gave her a smile. "Of course. Get me a coffee. If you could possibly work a shower into my schedule that would be great as well."

Gail nodded, noting it down. "Oh, and your step-father rang to congratulate you on your promotion. He also asked a million and one questions as to why you were flying about so much."

Nathan blanched slightly before laughing, realising she met in a plane. Gail looked at him curiously and then he said, "He's causing trouble. Ignore him."

"Will do," Gail smiled and squeezed his arm. "Did you find him?"

Nathan's smile was all the answer she needed.

Forty-eight phonecalls later, Nathan felt that the DA's office was not going to fall down and that he could probably eat something. He walked down the busy corridors to a vending machine and saw that it was five to eight. Something hit him in the gut and he grabbed for his phone.

"Peter Anthony."

"Peter, it's Nathan. Sorry for taking so long to get back to you," Nathan said, smiling as he heard Peter give a chuckle. "You're cutting it fine. We're about to board."

"Sorry, everything's gone a bit crazy here," Nathan said. "The DA was murdered."

"Oh my god," Peter said. "Was it Sylar?"

Nathan hadn't even considered it. "I have no idea. But it means that I'm in charge here for a bit. You said you're heading back to Texas?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "Probably for the best. Hiro and Ando reckon that one of us could explode."

Nathan blinked. "What?"

"Hiro can bend time and space," Peter said in such a matter of fact tone that Nathan felt a migraine coming on. "He went to the future. Apparently there's a big explosion. As Ted and I are the only ones who could explode, we thought it best to get out of town. We've got a lead on the company who are after us, so we're checking that out."

"Right," Nathan said, thanking the Universe for engineering his brother's departure from New York.

"I was wondering…" Peter said, suddenly sounding a lot less sure.

"Yes?" Nathan asked, confused.

"Becky trusts you and I don't really want her to be in our apartment without me, so I was hoping you would let her stay with you," Peter said in a rush, as if nervous for Nathan's response.

"That's no problem," Nathan said. "You can all stay there if you can fit."

"Just add it to the things I owe you," Peter said with a sigh and Nathan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Saving my wife's life, making sure I was ok when I was hurt, putting us up when you barely know us…" Peter trailed off and Nathan nearly said, "What else are brothers for?" but cut himself off in time.

"Like I said," Nathan said instead, "not a problem. Keep me posted as to what you find. And look after Claire."

"Always," Peter said. "Speak to you soon Nathan, good luck with the DA thing."

Nathan hung up and saw his mother come out of the elevator. Feeling stupidly relieved that he was no longer talking to Peter he approached her.

"What are you doing here Ma?" Nathan took Angela's arm and guided her back towards his office.

"It's an important day," Angela said cryptically. Then she took a deep breath. "Is he here?"

Nathan decided to play dumb, though knowing that aggravating his mother wasn't probably his best course of action in this instant. "Is who here?"

Angela's eyes narrowed. "Peter. Where is Peter? You said you had found him. I want to see him."

Nathan gave her a disarming smile. "He's on his way to Texas."

The look his mother threw at him would have been terrifying if he hadn't seen it before. "Why is he going to Texas?"

Nathan shrugged and lied. "I'm not really sure."

Angela placed a well-manicured hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Call him; get him back here right now."

"I can't do that," Nathan told her. Her grip on his shoulder tightened like a vice.

"After all I've done for you…"

Nathan stared at her and she pulled her hand away, as if she realised she had said too much. Angela strode out of the room, Nathan's heart pounding in his chest as he watched her go. Could she have had something to do with Martin Forbes' murder?

He stood in his office doorway when almost all the phones in the office started ringing at once.

"What's going on?" he asked the nearest aide.

"The plane carrying the congressmen and the mayor back to New York has crashed," the young woman said, her eyes filling with tears. "Eye-witnesses said it just fell out of the sky!"

Nathan gripped the nearest chair and turned to Gail who was handing him his cell phone. "It's the President's office, he wants to talk to you."

* * *

Peter refused to let Claire go first back into the remains of her old house. The house itself wasn't in bad condition, but the volume of police tape around the property showed that something terrible had happened here. Peter had been surprised to find his father's old friend Matt Parkman leading the police contingent at the house. They'd had a brief conversation before Peter had brought Claire in and after one look at her face Matt let them into the house.

"What are we looking for?" Ted asked and Peter shrugged. "You saw the painting. I have no more information than that."

They both turned to Claire who said, "Dad's office is through here."

"Be careful not to touch anything," Peter said. "Matt would kill me if we wrecked his investigation."

"I think I've found something," Claire said, peering over the desk in the centre of the room. She pointed to a post-it sitting harmlessly next to the burnt out computer. _Linderman, Harton, Nevada – POWERS??_

Ted looked at Peter and then back at the post-it. He gave a grin and said, "At least we're getting lots of frequent flier miles."

Peter gave Claire's hand a squeeze. "Nevada it is."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve:

The entire city of New York was in panic mode. Nathan, after a terrifying but inspiring conversation with the President, had been given any powers he required to keep the city in order. There wasn't a great deal to be done, the police department were well on top of things, but the reports coming from the crash site of the congressmen's plane were suspicious. No signs of engine fault or pilot error, it had simply fallen out of the sky.

Nathan had gone home that evening and found Becky asleep on the sofa in front of a news report singing his praises. He snorted; he hadn't done anything other than be a person to call in charge. He gently shook Becky awake and she murmured, "Peter?"

"Hey Becky," he said, sitting down next to her. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah," she said, running a hand over her face. "What time is it?"

"Half midnight," Nathan said, glancing at his watch.

"And you only just got back?" Becky said incredulously.

"I thought you were Peter's wife, not mine," Nathan said with a snort, heading into the kitchenette and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "Have you heard from him?"

"No," she said with a sigh. "I got a call from Mohinder. Isaac has drawn another set of paintings. New York, in varying states of destruction and a man on fire, like he could explode."

"Ted," Nathan surmised. "Probably best that he's out of town then."

"It could be Peter," Becky said. "Mohinder thinks he has some sort of absorbent power. He used Claire's power to heal himself completely from the bullet wounds. Now he looks like he was never shot."

"Good," Nathan said, and then sighed, slumping back down next to her. "My dad thought my mother has something to do with the explosion. That's why he took Peter away, to keep him from harm."

"Wow," Becky said. "That's…"

"Yeah," Nathan said and then gave a hollow laugh. "He told me all this in a letter, very informative. Apparently Claire is my daughter."

Becky's mouth dropped open comically. "Your daughter?"

"Yep," Nathan said, flicking at the glass in his hand and enjoying the resulting 'ping'. "I thought she was dead. I was told she was dead. Turns out Ma knew that she was alive all along."

"I'm sorry Nathan," Becky said, giving his hand a squeeze. "What are you going to do?"

"About Ma?" Nathan asked. "Keep her as far away from Peter as possible, or keep Peter out of New York as long as possible."

"That's not going to be easy," Becky said. "She sounds like a powerful woman."

"Yeah," Nathan rubbed his eyes, suddenly struck by how tired he was. "But I have to keep him safe. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight."

The morning was cool and crisp. On the way to the office Nathan had walked past several newsstands with papers declaring he should run for President, so exceptional was his performance. Nathan had rolled his eyes and headed into the office and found his mother waiting.

"What do you want?" Nathan asked, knowing that irritating her probably wasn't a good idea.

"I want to see my son," Angela said, sitting in his visitor's chair, her mouth a fine line.

"Well I'm here Ma, what can I do for you?" Nathan asked, moving around his desk to sit down, blanching at the size of his inbox.

"I meant Peter and don't get smart with me," Angela said, her nostrils flaring slightly. "I know you know where he is. Tell me."

"I don't know where he is," Nathan said, picking up a pen and attacking the first pile of paper. "He went to Texas. I don't think he's in Texas any more. But he could be, as far as I know."

"Don't underestimate how difficult I can make your life Nathan," Angela said, her expression like daggers. "I know how much this office means to you."

Nathan looked up from his paperwork and saw how furious she was, almost shaking with anger. "Are you threatening me Ma?"

"Planes don't fall out of the sky on their own Nathan."

There was an icy silence. Nathan got up from his chair and slowly and quietly shut his office door. He turned around to face her and said, "Is this why Dad took Peter away? Is this why you hid my daughter from me? Is this why you drove Heidi away? So you could keep control me? Put me in the place where I could do the most damage and then blackmail me into doing what you want?"

"I would never resort to blackmail," Angela said mildly. She stood up and brushed some imaginary lint off her immaculate coat. "I want the best for you Nathan, I know you don't believe me and even from beyond the grave your father is stirring up trouble. But I am your mother and I love you and I would like the first chance in nearly fifteen years to be the same to Peter."

Nathan said nothing, concentrating on keeping his breathing calm and not to do anything rash. His mother didn't say anything either, just watched him, her eyes sparkling. The deafening silence was finally broken by a cell phone ringing. It took Nathan a moment to realise it wasn't his, but Angela's. She drew it out of her purse and said, "Hello?"

* * *

_Two hours earlier_

"Linderman Services, Harton, Nevada," Ted said as they stood in front of an empty factory at a ridiculously early hour of the morning. "I wonder what services they provide."

"I bet it's a cover," Claire said. Ted rolled his eyes and said, "No? You think?"

Claire glowered at him and Peter pushed the door open after freezing the lock.

"You're getting quite good at that," Claire said with a smile and Peter grinned at her. Inside was a large room, but not as big as they would have expected for the size of the factory. It was dark, and Ted held up his hands to illuminate the place better.

The walls were lined by hundreds of paintings, all by different artists. They moved further into the room and Peter pointed to a picture nearest the desk at the far end of the room. "That looks like Nathan, in the White House?"

Claire moved to his side and nodded. "Looks like him. Do you think these are like Isaac's paintings?"

"May be," Peter said and then he felt a familiar power surge rush through his veins. He pushed Claire to the ground as a blonde woman came running at him. He jumped up, ended up flying a bit before landing behind her. She was completely surprised and seemed to forget why she was running at him.

"Who are you?" she asked, her fists raised as if prepared to take him out at any moment. "What have you done with my son?"

"I'm Peter Anthony," Peter said quickly. "I don't know who your son is or who has got him."

A tall black man moved out of the shadows. "I don't think they're who we're looking for Niki."

The blonde woman relaxed slightly, dropping her fists and demanded, "What are you doing here then?"

"Looking for answers," Ted said, his eyes sparkling in the light of his hands. "Have they taken your son?"

Niki, the blonde woman, nodded. "We got this address from a mobster in Vegas."

"They killed my dad," Claire said quietly. "Then kidnapped me and were doing weird experiments on me."

Niki's husband moved forward and said, "Where were you held? Could Micah be there?"

"No," Peter said. "The police have been there. The whole place was cleared out before they got there."

The expression in Niki's eyes was devastating. Peter nearly reached out to touch her arm when Ted yelled, "Woah. Peter, you need to have a look at this."

They moved over to the far side of the room and Peter heard Claire gasp beside him. One corner of the place was dedicated to Peter. There were photographs of him as a child, of his father, photocopies of old school reports, and artist impressions of Peter as a teenager and the age he was now, with an uncanny likeness."

"They want me," Peter said, barely suppressing a shudder. "But-"

He was cut off by a rapid stream of bullets. Ted and Niki's husband fell to the floor instantly and Peter dove in front of Niki and took the shot to the chest. He winced as he struggled to his feet, the bullet slipping out of his chest with a sickening squelch, and saw a white haired man take Claire by the hair and point a gun to the back of her head.

"Do you really think she can take a bullet to the area of her brain that controls her regeneration?" He said, his eyes malicious. All thoughts of fighting back left Peter's mind immediately. They were surrounded by at least a dozen armed officers. He met Claire's gaze and tried to make her realise he would do anything to save her.

_Help me Peter, oh God, please help me. _

With a start Peter realised he could hear her thoughts as if she was speaking them aloud. He shook his head slightly as Niki said, "Mr Linderman I presume."

"Niki Sanders," Mr Linderman said. "No, that's not right. Niki would be in pieces at the death of her husband. You must be Jessica."

Jessica, or Niki, nodded.

"Don't worry Peter," Mr Linderman continued. "This is going to be completely painless if you just come quietly. We've been looking for you for quite a while."

Peter said nothing, concentrating on the gun pointed at Claire's head. Linderman handed the gun to an associate and pulled out a cellphone. After dialing a number his face broke into a terrifying smile and he said, "I have him."

* * *

Angela's face broke into the widest smile Nathan had ever seen and he felt a block of ice settle in his gut. "Your brother has been found. We have him now."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen:

Peter stared at Linderman, feeling Niki/Jessica vibrate with anticipation at his side. The noise of the thoughts of everyone in the room was beginning to give him a headache and he concentrated hard on blocking it out. He opened his eyes and realised that everyone was frozen, as if something had stopped time. He thought briefly of Hiro as he ran forward and pulled Claire away from her captor. He stumbled as he did so and everyone started into life again.

"Don't move," Linderman said and Peter didn't have to turn to know that they had guns pointed at him. "Your mother is very keen to meet you Peter, you shouldn't rush off."

Peter did turn then, Claire in his arms, and desperately tried to keep his expression neutral. "My mother died when I was 12 years old."

"No she didn't." Linderman's expression was wolfish. Peter bit slightly at his lower lip and took a deep breath as he heard, as clear of she had spoken it, Claire think, _don't listen to him Peter. We've got to get out of here._

Whether she knew that he could hear her or not, Peter knew he had to act. Linderman clearly wasn't friendly, even if he was telling the truth.

Several things happened at once. Jessica lunged at Peter, who threw her off with a strength he never knew he had. Linderman and his men started firing again and Ted stood up, blood dribbling through his fingers clutched at his abdomen.

"Get out of here Peter," he said, his voice shaky and his face very pale. "I can't control it much longer."

Peter took one look at Ted's glowing hands and seized Claire by the waist. A flash from Ted signified the beginning of his meltdown and Linderman noticed the shimmering man.

"Get out of here!" he yelled, running for the exit.

Peter realised that getting to a way out would mean ending up in Linderman's control again when Jessica, having recovered from her contact with a painting when Peter had thrown her away, got up and punched through the wall.

"Come on!" she yelled as Ted continued to flicker and burn. Peter could feel the heat on his face as he stepped closer. "Ted, there must be something I can do."

Ted, a strange calm over his features, shook his head and said, "Nothing. Now get out of here!"

Peter didn't need to be told again. He grabbed Claire's hand and ran through the hole Jessica had made. He took two steps out into the dawn and realised Linderman's men didn't seem to understand that the building wouldn't contain Ted if he exploded and had started chasing after them. Peter glanced back at them and pulled Jessica and Claire closer to him.

"Hey, I don't know you buddy," Jessica sneered and Peter ignored her, instead pushed off the ground and they disappeared into the brightening sky as the building exploded below them.

* * *

Nathan's entire body was cold. He had failed. He had failed his brother and his father and he was fairly sure that he had failed the city of New York as well. His mother was smiling in a deliriously happy manner until the sound of the dial tone broke the silence.

"If you want to see Peter alive again, you'd better do as we say," Angela said coolly, tucking her purse under her arm. Nathan felt utterly numb. On her way out of the door she patted his arm and said in a patronising tone, "It really will be much easier this way."

* * *

By the time Peter staggered to a stop at the nearest town the sun was up, Jessica wrenched her arm away and pushed Peter by the throat up against the nearest wall. "If you ever do that to me again…"

She stormed off, dropping Peter who staggered before massaging his neck. Claire laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you ok?"

Peter stood up and stretched a bit. "Fine."

"Do you think that man was telling the truth?" Claire asked, her blonde hair blowing about in the wind. "About your mother?"

"No." Peter decided. "But clearly something very strange is going on."

"We should get back to New York," Claire said decisively. "Get some more information. Maybe Isaac has drawn some more pictures, or Hiro and Ando have more information."

"But now Ted is dead, I'm the only one who can cause the explosion," Peter said, staring back out at the desert. "I think I should probably stay here."

"What if they find you?" Claire said earnestly, gesturing back towards where they had come. "You can't stay out here, and it will be easier to hide in New York, you know the place. And Hiro said that you are supposed to stop the explosion, not cause it."

Peter sighed and wanted to disagree with her. But in his heart all he wanted to do was go home and spend some time with his wife. He wanted to go back to work and save people's lives. He had seen too much death recently and it hurt.

"New York it is then," he said, holding out his arms to her. She put them securely around his neck and said, "Are you sure we shouldn't go by plane?"

Peter gave a smirk. "I didn't want to drop you before; I can go a lot faster now."

And he shot of into the air; Claire's laughter was drowned out by the sonic boom.

* * *

In only a few short hours Peter was kissing his wife hard on the mouth and heading back to their apartment, Claire had stayed behind with Mohinder and the others, trying to give the couple some time to catch up.

"So we can't stay in New York," Peter surmised. "I was thinking that we should go back to Dad's house in LA, it hasn't been sold yet and as they hadn't found me while Dad was alive…"

Becky nodded as she unlocked the door to their apartment. The police had done a good job, it looked just like home. Peter gave a sigh of relief and said, "I am going to take the world's longest shower. Care to join me?"

He caught her by the wrist and pulled her in for a kiss but she struggled free. "Peter, you need to go and speak to Nathan. I need to pack so we can leave."

"Nathan?" Peter frowned. "Why?"

"Because we owe him a lot," Becky said hesitantly. "At least, I do. He said he wanted to speak to you before you went anywhere, so…"

Peter gave a great sigh and said, in a long suffering tone, "What's his address?"

Becky gave him a coy smile and pecked his cheek with a kiss. "On the dresser. Now go away."

Feeling slightly bemused, Peter headed back out onto the streets of the city and made his way to a far nicer area than where he and Becky lived. On the way a guy with a beard and a rather unpleasant looking coat walked straight into him. He had looked very surprised and Peter had just scowled at his thoughtlessness. He reached Nathan's apartment building and found the man himself had just exited a car as he arrived.

"Hey Nathan," Peter said but he received no response from the lawyer, which Peter found odd. He followed him up the stairs to the apartment and marvelled at how much nicer than his and Becky's place it was.

"So Becky sent me over," Peter said, standing next to Nathan, who was started to look very concerned. "She said you had something to tell me."

"I'm going crazy," Nathan muttered, busying himself with putting away groceries. Peter put his hands on his hips and frowned. "No more so than the rest of us. It seems that this guy Linderman is after me and we only just got out with our lives, and I think Ted died."

"Yep," Nathan said and for a moment Peter thought he was finally acknowledging his presence. "Definitely crazy."

"Stop joking around," Peter said, irritated. "I'm leaving New York with Becky as soon as possible, it can only be me who causes the explosion and I'm not going to destroy the city."

"This must be what they mean by crazy with grief means," Nathan said, slumping onto the sofa by the television. "I finally found my brother only to lose him again and I'm hearing things."

Peter froze. "Brother?"

Nathan looked up, staring straight at Peter. "Peter? What…? Where did you come from?"

"I've been here since you got here!" Peter exclaimed, his mind on other things. "What did you mean by brother?"

"I meant you," Nathan said, sounding very tired and very confused. "Peter, you just appeared out of thin air."

"Not the strangest thing to have happened to me recently," Peter retorted. "Nathan, are you saying that we are brothers?"

"We have the same parents," Nathan said, rubbing his temples. "That's usually would make us brothers…"

"Usually?" Peter asked, stepping closer to Nathan, his arms folded. "What are you talking about?"

"I am your brother," Nathan said with a sigh. "My parents are your parents. When you were 12 Dad decided that it was best that he took you away from me and Ma and then wiped your memory to make sure you wouldn't come looking for us."

There was a heavy silence. Peter opened and shut his mouth like a goldfish for a few seconds and Nathan said, looking out of the window, at the floor, anywhere but Peter, "Turns out he was probably right to do it. Ma is a psycho hell-bent on using you to destroy New York."

"Dad kidnapped me..."

Nathan stood up finally and placed his hands on Peter's shoulders. "Peter, I didn't want to tell you like this, believe me. But you have got to get out of the city and as far away from Ma as you possibly can."

Peter pulled away from him, his mouth forming a thin line. "Dad took me away from my mother, you, my home… and he had my memory wiped?"

"It was for your own good," Nathan said, but Peter was shaking his head furiously. "I spent 14 years thinking I had no family, thinking that my mother had died in a car accident. I didn't even know that you existed and you say that it was for my own good?"

"You don't understand Peter," Nathan said, feeling like he was a teenager again, trying to talk Peter down from a tantrum. "Dad was right. Ma is dangerous. Just trust me."

Peter's expression was like a thundercloud. "How can I trust you? Because of Dad and his wonderful plans I don't even know you!"

"Peter…"

"I've lasted this long without a big brother Nathan," Peter said, his tone like ice as he moved to the door. "I don't think I need one now."

* * *

Peter's head was spinning. He had a brother. His mother was still alive. His father had lied to him repeatedly for 14 years. It was more overwhelming than discovering he had superhuman capabilities. He hated the way Nathan had been so casual about telling him, as if it was of no consequence. He fisted a hand in his hair as he stalked up the stairs to his apartment.

The door was standing a little ajar and Peter, barely noticing where he was, pushed it open and said, "Becky, I don't even know how to begin telling…"

He trailed off as he saw the devastation in front of him. There was blood on the walls, ice and water everywhere, broken chairs and upturned tables littering the floor. He moved a bit further forward and saw a foot sticking out of the end of the sofa. He stepped to the side and saw Becky, lying in a pool of blood. The top of her head looked as if it had been sliced off, and her brain had been removed.

An icy calm took hold of Peter in an instant, quelling any other feeling of nausea or grief. The rational part of his brain was connecting dots fast and came to the only conclusion; it had to have been Sylar. At that point one emotion rose above any other, revenge.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: This is the last chapter, not including the epilogue. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this far, particuarly by7the7sea. I hope you have enjoyed the ride!

Chapter Fourteen:

Nathan sat in his apartment staring at the ceiling. In his head the conversation where he revealed to Peter that they were brothers had always ended with hugs and tears of joy. Anger surged through him and he threw a glass at the wall, watching in satisfaction as it shattered, spraying shards about the floor. He took a series of deep breaths and prepared to go back to the office, he had only stepped in for lunch, when there was a knock on door.

"What do you want?" Nathan scowled at his mother, not letting her past into the apartment. Angela's face crumpled. "Daniel's dead."

Nathan stared at her in shock. "What?"

She was swallowing, almost desperately, as if making sure she didn't burst into tears. "There was an explosion in Las Vegas. No survivors and… I think Peter was there too."

A tear escaped then, and Nathan shook his head. "Ma, Peter's fine. I just spoke to him."

"What?" Angela's whole body froze. "But… Daniel's dead. There's no way to control what comes next!"

"Ma?" Nathan was frowning, his arms folded in front of his chest. "What comes next?"

"If Peter is still alive, then the explosion can't be stopped." Angela's resolve seemed to be coming back. "But with Daniel dead, there is no way to control the fallout."

"Then I'm going to find Peter," Nathan said. "He won't want to talk to me, but that's neither here nor there."

Angela gave him a sympathetic smile. "It was never supposed to be like this. The explosion was to start a brave new world under your leadership. Peter would survive, it was for the greater good. But without Linderman…"

"I'll find Peter," Nathan repeated. "He said he and Becky were leaving the city asap, so I'm going. Will you be ok?"

"Find him," Angela told him calmly, fixing him in a steely gaze. "But I don't think anything will stop the explosion."

Nathan ran to Peter and Becky's apartment, ignoring the two police cars sitting outside the building. He came out of the elevator on Peter's floor to walk almost straight into Matt Parkman.

"Matt?" Nathan said, stumbling against the larger man in surprise. Matt gave him a grim smile and said, "Nathan, have you seen Peter?"

Nathan felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. "I thought he was here. Matt, what are you doing here?"

Matt sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sylar got to Becky. She's dead. Claire came back from Isaac Mendez's loft and found her. No one knows where Peter is."

Nathan's fatherly instincts finally started to kick in. "Is Claire ok?"

"In shock," Matt admitted. "Turns out Sylar went to Isaac's after he'd been here. Claire only just escaped."

Nathan moved forward and found his daughter sitting with her back to where the police and paramedics were at work in Peter's apartment, a blanket around her shoulders.

"Hey," he said, sitting down next to her. "How're you doing?"

Claire gave him a shaky smile. "I'm worried about Peter."

"Me too," Nathan said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"I think he's gone after Sylar," Claire said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Isaac was painting things, before Sylar came, of Peter in this place with red stairs. He looked like he was on fire."

Nathan felt sick. He wanted to stay and talk to his daughter, but he knew he had to go after Peter. He gave Claire's shoulder a squeeze and promised himself that he would be a father to her, but at the moment his brother had to be his priority.

"I'm going to put the city on alert," Nathan said, standing up. Matt nodded and said, "If Sylar has gone after Peter…"

"Peter can handle himself," Claire and Nathan said together and Matt looked bemused. Just then his radio sparked into life and there was a panicked sounding officer saying, "There's something weird happening in Kirby Plaza. Bright lights and reports of cars blowing up. Seems to be two guys fighting…"

Nathan and Claire shared a look before the former said, "I'm going to get the city evacuated. Matt, get Claire out of New York as fast as you can."

"Where are you going?" Matt asked, thankfully understanding how serious Nathan was.

"I'm going after my brother."

* * *

Isaac the painter's loft seemed to be the first logical place to look for a serial killer after special powers, the remaining rational part of Peter's brain told him, so he turned himself invisible and then flew across the city. He landed on the roof off Isaac's apartment and ripped the door off its hinges with his mind. He strode forward purposefully and saw a figure, his eyes milky, painting furiously. Peter realised Mohinder was trapped on the ceiling looking terrified and Isaac lay dead on the floor.

"Sylar," Peter said and the whiteness in Sylar's eyes disappeared. He took in the remnants of the door and said, "Who are you?"

"You just killed my wife," Peter said through gritted teeth. "I'm here to return the favour."

"I'm not married," Sylar said, moving forward with a malicious smile on his lips. He tipped his head to the side. "But you can do wondrous things. I'd love to have a look at how that works."

"No thanks," Peter said, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"That wasn't a request," Sylar said and Peter found himself flung up against the nearest wall. With a sickening dread Peter felt the skin above his eyebrows come apart. For a moment the thought of death was a comforting one, but then his instincts kicked in and Sylar was flung through the glass windows of Isaac's apartment. Mohinder fell down from the ceiling and stared at Peter who said, "Run, get out of here, GO!"

Mohinder fled. Sylar pulled himself out of the remains of the window and held out his hands. Ice slowly crept into the room, and Peter could see his breath.

"You might recognise this power," Sylar said mockingly. "I took it from a lovely woman with dark hair and a beautiful scream."

Peter felt himself pulse with anger and realised that he was actually sending out waves of heat and the ice was melting. For a brief second Sylar looked scared. The next moment he was throwing Peter across the room. Peter skidded on the remaining ice and pushed off the floor, flying through the air after Sylar who ran.

They tumbled out of the apartment into the street and Sylar seized Peter by the arm and threw him in the path of a truck. The truck dragged Peter under it for about a hundred feet before Peter, his ribs cracking, forced it a stop using Jessica's strength. He heaved himself out from underneath the truck and dodged the street lamp Sylar was swinging at him and punched him in the face. Sylar smashed into a department store window across the street as Peter felt himself heal, the blood dripping from his clothes.

Sylar took off again, sprinting into Kirby Plaza as a car exploded behind him, knocking Peter down as he chased after him. As he scrambled to his feet the ground was icy again and a sharp pain stabbed Peter in the chest. Becky.

With a renewed fury Peter stormed forward and went to punch Sylar but missed. Sylar had retrieved a piece of broken glass and made to stab Peter but it went straight through him, like he was intangible. It didn't last, as Sylar seized Peter by the throat and began to choke him, lifting him off the ground. Peter desperately swung his legs but Sylar was too strong. White spots started appearing in Peter's vision as his brain was deprived of oxygen. That was when Peter started to feel hot. He could see the white sparks under his skin, just like Ted when he had lost control of his power. Sylar started screaming as massive welts started forming on his skin.

The next sound was of a sword being unsheathed and then terrible pain. Sylar's grip relaxed and Peter hit the ground, viewing the world as it underwater. He was so hot it was unbearable, but he was dimly aware of Hiro, and the murmur of _Yatta._

* * *

Nathan sprinted into Kirby Plaza just in time to see Hiro slice Sylar through the head with his sword. It seemed that the little Japanese man had got Peter as well by the vast quantity of blood pouring on to the ground of the Plaza. Nathan ran forward and fell to his knees beside his brother, ignoring the heat he was generating and the white glow under his skin.

"Peter," he begged. "Can you hear me?"

Peter made a nonsensical noise, and Nathan could feel his skin burn as he gripped Peter in his arms. Hiro's sword seemed to have sliced Peter from the top of the head through his eyes to his nose. If Nathan hadn't been so terrified he would have thrown up, but he knew Peter was dangerously close to losing control.

"Peter, you've got to calm down, focus," Nathan told him sternly, even though there were tears running down his face.

"I can't," Peter whispered, so bright it hurt to look at him. Nathan seized him by the shoulders and said, "Becky Peter, think of Becky."

The glow was unbearable now and Nathan had to shut his eyes, wishing that he had said goodbye to his sons. There was the smell of charring meat, which Nathan knew to be burning skin. Pain was surging through him, his head pounding with the beat of his heart.

"Becky," he insisted, desperately. "Think of your wife Peter."

Nathan's every instinct was screaming at him to run, flee, hide. Peter was like a dead, hot weight in his arms, white light piercing through his skin. It felt like the end.

"Becky," Peter whispered, his voice raspy and pained.

Nathan braced himself, knowing he was going to pass out and it would all be over soon. But it wasn't so hot any more. He could open his eyes a crack and saw that Peter was glowing a blue colour now. And starting to feel really cold. The ground around them was covered in ice and there were icicles in Peter's hair. Nathan's head fell forward in relief, feeling very nauseous.

Peter's sobbing echoed through the Plaza. Nathan held him close to him, trying hard to keep his emotions in check and his stomach in order. The world was suddenly still and calm. In his arms Peter gave a huge sigh, stretching like a cat and Nathan saw the wound in his head seal up as if he had never been hurt. Peter shuddered in Nathan's grasp and then opened his eyes, his expression full of wonder.

"Nathan," he said, his eyes watery. "I remember."


	15. Chapter 15

Epilogue:

New York's District Attorney's office was alive with the feeling of Christmas. Nathan, after nearly 3 weeks in hospital, was finally getting used to his new position of responsibility. He was enjoying it more than he thought possible, and the idea of having a week off for Christmas wouldn't be appealing but his family was finally complete.

There was a knock on his office door and Gail poked her head around, looking flushed. "Your brother and your daughter have arrived."

Nathan grinned and Claire came in, her nose and cheeks pink with cold.

"Peter's gone to change out of his scrubs," she told him. "He's ridiculously excited. Started a snowball fight with some orderlies at the hospital and got soaked."

Nathan gave her a quick hug and said, "He's seeing his mother for the first time in 15 years, it's Christmas, he's allowed to be excited."

Claire smiled wistfully and Nathan thought back to how calmly she had taken his revelation of her parentage. She had let him hug her and then studied him very carefully before saying, "It makes sense."

There hadn't been much discussion about her living with him. She couldn't go back to Texas, for reasons Nathan couldn't quite understand, and Peter had stayed at his too while Nathan had been in hospital. Peter was looking for a new place, but with no great vigour and Nathan was enjoying his company too much to encourage him to move out. Peter's presence also made things easier for Claire and Nathan, who were slowly getting to know each other. Claire had been curious about her mother and her grandmother, but she wasn't consumed with family in the same way Peter was.

Peter stumbling though his office door woke Nathan from his thoughts. Claire gave a spluttering laugh as Peter straightened his tie.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrows knotting together in a frown.

"Nothing," she said, smirking widely. "I just can't remember the last time I saw you in a suit."

Peter gave her a lofty look. "When I went to the bank last week."

"You are such a dork," Claire declared with a laugh.

"You should respect your elders and betters," Peter told her.

"You don't count," Claire shot back and Peter folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'm your uncle."

Claire rolled her eyes and turned to Nathan. "Can we go?"

Nathan responded by pulling on his jacket and picking up his briefcase.

"Merry Christmas Gail," he called as they walked past her on the way out.

"Merry Christmas," Gail smiled, going pink again as Peter passed her. Nathan raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to set his brother up with his assistant. But not yet, Peter was very much still in the grieving period.

The three of them walked down the slush filled streets until they reached a small Italian restaurant, Peter almost bouncing in anticipation. Nathan pushed the door open and saw that the place was quiet. He had booked half of the restaurant for a private party, so it wasn't entirely surprising that there weren't many people there. As the far end restaurant, at the largest table furthest away from the door sat his mother. Their eyes met and he nodded. He placed a hand on Peter's shoulder and said, "She's over there."

Peter gave him a shaky smile and walked carefully between the other chairs and tables until he reached Angela, whose face was running with tears. Claire moved to follow Peter but Nathan grabbed her arm. "Give them a minute."

Claire stood next to him and as they watched Angela threw her arms around Peter, who clung tightly to her.

"I knew Uncle Arthur was my grandfather," Claire said suddenly. Nathan frowned, forcing himself to look away from his mother and brother who were now sitting. "What do you mean?"

"He said I reminded him of my father," Claire said, her voice quiet. "I knew I was adopted by then, but I had always thought it meant Peter and I weren't related either. But Uncle Arthur said I reminded him of his son, that I was as stubborn as I was clever."

Nathan swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "I'm glad he was there for you."

Claire smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you were there for Peter."

Nathan smiled back, but the moment was broken by the restaurant door opening and Heidi arriving with Monty and Simon. The boys immediately threw themselves on Nathan, who lifted one in each arm and kissed Heidi on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

Heidi smiled and blushed slightly. "Merry Christmas. They boys are very excited about the party. They won't stop talking about their new Uncle Peter."

Nathan smiled, wincing slightly as Monty gripped his neck hard. Claire shifted slightly and Heidi turned to her, smiling widely. "You must be Claire! Nathan had not stopped about how wonderful you are. I'm Heidi."

Claire smiled genuinely and said, "It's lovely to meet you."

Nathan decided to let them chat and his mother and Peter were still locked in deep conversation. He grinned at his sons, feeling ridiculously happy. "Simon, Monty, what you think of a snowball fight?"

* * *

Though she was sitting right in front of him Peter couldn't quite believe his mother was real. She kept smiling at him and touching his hand, which was quite nice, but it didn't really fit with the woman he remembered.

"Nathan says you're a doctor?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Yeah," Peter said, with a shy laugh. "I work in the ER. I like it."

"Good," she said. "You were such an empathetic child, it seems a good fit."

"I wanted to be a nurse," Peter admitted. "But Dad didn't agree. We fought about it quite a lot but in the end, he was paying for it…"

"Arthur always knew how to get his way," Angela said, her smile more strained.

"Yeah," Peter agreed. There was an uncomfortable silence and he looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry about your husband."

Angela smiled tightly, squeezing Peter's hand. "I'm sorry about your wife."

Peter sighed. "Yeah."

They were silent for a few moments when Peter said, "Dad always loved you."

Angela gave a dry chuckle and shook her head.

"I mean it," Peter insisted. "He never married again, never even took his wedding ring off." He ran a hand through his hair. "God, I was so angry with him. Took me away from you, Nathan, my life… Took away my memories. In my darker moments after Becky… I though he only took me away so the explosion would be easier for you. I mean, you wouldn't know me, you wouldn't care so much."

Peter slumped in his chair, knowing how bitter he sounded.

"I still cared," Angela said softly. "I may not have known you for 14 years, but you were still my baby, still are. The idea of you having to go through that…"

Peter blew out a breath. "Thank God for Nathan."

Angela smiled. "Yes."

Peter was playing with his hair again. "I'm going to LA in the New Year, to visit Dad's grave. Nathan said he wants to come, maybe you want to join us?"

Angela hesitated and then nodded. "I will." She paused. "Does this mean you forgive him?"

Peter smiled shyly. "He's my dad."

"What about me?" Angela asked hopefully and her son shrugged. "What's there to forgive?"

"The whole idea of you exploding," Angela said, her expression full of self-loathing. "The fact that Arthur thought I was so great a risk to you he felt he had to take you away. The fact that you did nearly explode…"

Peter gave a breathy laugh, his smile crinkled and embarrassed. "I can fly, turn invisible, stop time, paint the future, move things with my mind, explode! You're my mother, if I can do all those things, I can certainly forgive you."

A tear escaped down Angela's cheek. "Thank you."

She squeezed his hand again and the next moment Monty and Simon came tearing into the restaurant looking damp. Nathan followed the, drenched. He gave Heidi a wry smile and Claire a wink before standing behind Peter, clapping his hands on his brother's shoulders. "I think we should probably order."

As everyone took their seats, Nathan squatted beside Peter and handed him an envelope.

"Christmas isn't for three days Nathan," Peter said.

"This isn't for Christmas," Nathan said. "It's for tomorrow, and to make up for the time I dashed off in the middle of the night, about 14 years ago."

Peter gave him a curious smile before ripping the envelope open and grinning wider at the sight of two Yankees tickets.

"Happy birthday," Nathan said, kissing him on the side of the head. Peter stared at the tickets in his hand. "I can't believe you remembered… Thank you."

Nathan gave a shrug and then smiled. "What else are big brothers for?"

End


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